Forgiven not Forgotten
by SneezingKneazle
Summary: "I don't care," snapped Ginny, "Just promise me that you'll give Malfoy another chance." Hermione scowled at her friend, "Seriously, Ginny? If the roles were reversed, do you really think that he would do the same for me?"
1. Second Chances

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is a fantastic author with incredible characters. I do not own her characters. I do not own her. It is physically impossible for me to do either. Sorry to break that to everyone!

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The news was so needed that Hermione almost broke down then and there. She stared at the letter clutched in her hand, half expecting it to disappear of its own accord.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_The professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would like to once again thank you for your most honorable endeavors to help our students and staff, as well as the whole of the wizarding community, stop the Dark Lord and his followers. You have shown great courage and fortitude in doing so, and for this you deserve our most heartfelt thanks and commemoration._

_It has come to the attention of the staff here at Hogwarts that the seventh years of this past year, due to the unfortunate toll of the war and the less-than-standard teaching methods, have not received the education that is due them. We have decided to remedy this as soon as possible._

_Should it be your wish to return to Hogwarts and complete your seventh year, we will allow you to do so. You will be grouped in with this autumn's seventh years, and will take your exams when they do. Normally, this procedure is frowned upon, but the current circumstances have caused us to bend our normal restrictions. Anyone wishing to complete their year will be allowed to, so long as they return the provided owl with a letter stating this as their request._

_If it is not your wish to return to Hogwarts, there will be final exams held on the 17th that will allow you to receive your papers for graduation without the required year._

_I sincerely hope to see you in our fall classes._

_Best wishes,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Eyes misty, Hermione scrambled for the quill in her desk drawer. There was only one response to a letter like this.


	2. Different Roads

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own the world. I only own a pen and a brain, and sometimes I'm not so sure about that! **_

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"What do you mean you're not going?" squeaked Hermione, sitting up in protest.

The day had been going rather well before this nasty little intrusion. She and Ron had snuck off to the hill for a picnic lunch with Harry and Ginny. It was a beautiful day, relaxing even to her standards. Clouds puffed lazily through a crystalline sky. Fat squirrels chased each other through the grasses, bickering over a crust of bread they had stolen from someone's paper plate. It had been wonderful to get away for a few hours, from the bustle of reporters, ministry members, and well wishers, all wanting something else, all needing just a brief minute of her precious time. She was sure that Harry was probably worse off, but it was still so bothersome when they took away the little time she had from her main goal.

Today was nice. Today was peaceful. Just her friends, the sunshine, the birds, hope, and…

Reality hit her in the stomach.

"Look Hermione," Ron sighed sheepishly, avoiding her gaze, "I decided not to go back. I mean Hogwarts was great and all, but that was our past life, you know? After everything we've been through, I feel like it wouldn't make sense to go back. We've all grown up so much."

"But what about graduating? What about your future? How are you going to make a good life for yourself if you don't get a decent job?"

"I can take the exams and finish my requirements that way. Don't look at me like that; I don't need to go to Hogwarts to pass some exams. We all have enough life experience to pass, and you know it," when Hermione just looked skeptical he continued, "It's not as if I can't get a job without that year either. You and I both know that the publicity is enough to get a good position nearly anywhere. I've already got an offer from Oliver Wood's team, Puddlemere United."

"_Quidditch_?" Hermione gaped, "but _Ron_…"

"Look, Hermione," he cut her off quickly, "I know what you're going to say, but could you please not? I've put a lot of time and thought into this decision. I'm not going to Hogwarts. Maybe I won't take up that offer, maybe I will. But I'm not going back to school. Can you please try to understand? For the first time, I actually have enough money to do what I want with my life. Those Wizarding Hero Awards may not have meant much to you and Harry, but for the first time I have the freedom to choose. I can finally go do things. I can travel. I can go on adventures. I want to do something more with my life than just graduate with the rest of my class and work for the ministry. Now I finally can, and I'm going to."

He tried to tug her back into his lap, but she pulled away and turned to Harry, who had been trying desperately to pretend he couldn't hear the conversation.

"Harry? What about you? You want to go back to Hogwarts, don't you?" her voice shook, and her heart begged him to say yes.

His brow furrowed, and he tried to talk gently, "Hermione, listen. Do you remember that auror the other day? The one who I was talking to about rebuilding the ministry?" She barely moved her head, and he continued, "Well, he said that there was a position opening up for an internship at the ministry. It's an auror position, Hermione. I could be an auror by spring!" He tried to hide the enthusiasm in his voice, but Hermione saw it in his eyes.

"So no one is going back to Hogwarts with me?" Hermione whispered, her voice shaking.

"Listen, Hermione," Ginny began, but Hermione stood and dusted herself off.

"I have to get going, I just forgot an appointment for this afternoon," she muttered, the words sounding faked even to her own ears. She looked at Ginny's worried expression, and managed to muster enough strength to say, "don't worry about me Gin", before turning and making her way swiftly down the hill, eyes swimming with unshed tears.

It was nearly a week before Hermione let anyone into her apartment. She was staying at ministry headquarters while the war aftermath was sorted out, and had locked her door without a word to anyone. Both Ron and Harry tried to talk her out, but she had ignored them, as well as their countless attempts at bribery. A pile of books, chocolates, and flowers lay untouched by her door, and her windows were barred securely from all owl entry. Every move to comfort had been used; every charming tactic the boys knew had been utilized.

Frustrated, they turned to the only weapon they had left: Ginny.

Three sharp knocks told Hermione that her time for grieving had officially ended. She buried her face in the pillows, grumbling to herself. Couldn't she be allowed to mope for the next few hours? She was sad for crying out loud! Pun intended…not that jokes made her feel any less miserable.

Three more knocks snapped her from her thoughts, followed by a sharp, "Hermione Granger, open this door **right now**!"

Grumbling about the lack of door bells in wizarding society, Hermione removed herself from her comfy nest and clomped toward the door, wrapping her comforter around her shoulders. She unlocked the door and opened it a finger's width.

"What do you want, Ginny?" Hermione sighed.

Ginny pushed past Hermione determinedly, "I want you to stop all this nonsense! Who cares if the boys are too pig-headed to finish school?" She looked back at Hermione, who was still standing sheepishly in the doorway, "Come on, then!"

A slightly more put-together Hermione settled onto the couch while Ginny bustled around in the kitchen. She sighed as the redhead returned with two steaming cups of tea and settled next to her expectantly.

"Well?"

"'Well', what, Ginny?" Hermione took a sip, surprised by how much better the tea made her feel.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny smiled encouragingly.

"Not really," said Hermione blandly, taking another sip of tea.

Ginny frowned, "Yes, you do."

The brunette made a face, "Wouldn't I know if I wanted to talk before you would?"

"Not necessarily," sighed her friend.

"Well, I still don't want to," snapped Hermione stubbornly.

"That's too bad. I'm not leaving until you talk," Ginny set her jaw and crossed her arms, waiting.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but the redhead stared her down calmly.

"Fine!" Hermione scowled, "I'll talk, you crazy weasel!"

Ginny shook her head, smiling slightly, "Don't talk like Malfoy, it isn't becoming. Now, are you going to vent, or what?"

Hermione frowned into her tea, "Sorry, Gin. I'm just so frustrated."

"About?" Ginny prompted.

"This whole not-going-back-to-school-thing. I don't understand why they wouldn't want to go back. I have so many good memories there, and I know they both do too. Why would they want it to end?"

Her friend sighed sympathetically, "They're just in a different place than you are. That doesn't mean that they don't miss Hogwarts, it just means they're ready for the next step in their lives."

"Why aren't I, then?" Hermione grumbled.

Ginny shrugged, "I really don't know, Hermione. Maybe you just have a different path than those two, or maybe you just aren't ready for a life of chasing dragons yet. It doesn't really matter as long as you're making the decisions that will be best for you."

Hermione sighed, "What if those decisions break apart my friendships? What if we follow such separate paths that we don't stay friends?"

Ginny grinned, "Honey, there's no way that you won't stay friends with those two! You survived a war together. Not to mention over seven years of friendship with my brother, which is saying something in itself!"

Hermione managed to laugh a little at that, and Ginny hugged her when she saw the smile.

"There's the old Hermione I know!" she grinned, "Who needs boys, anyway?"

"I sure don't," Hermione confirmed stoutly, despite her inner trembling.

Ginny smiled, but then her face softened, "You know, Hermione, those two boys that we can live without sure are worried about you. Do you think you could let them apologize? It would mean a lot to them."

Hermione's stomach rolled, but she forced a smile, "Sure."

Dinner at the Hog's Head went as smoothly as could be expected. After the first awkward apologies passed back and forth, Hermione did her best to make conversation like usual. Everyone tread carefully, but Hermione made a point of chattering. She asked Harry when his apprenticeship would start, and soon everyone was far more comfortable. By the end of the night even Hermione was laughing, and her aching heart seemed miles away. She decided that Ginny had been right; the best medicine for sadness was spending time with those she cared about.

At the end of the night, Ron walked her back to the apartment.

"Listen, Hermione, I'm really sorry about this whole thing," he sighed, shuffling his feet nervously.

Hermione did her best to smile, "I know Ronald, and I get it. You need to go see the world and find yourself. I'm really glad that you can, and I want you to, if that's what you need."

Her head screamed at the blatant lies and she knew for sure that Ron would see the truth. She forced her eyes up to meet his, pushing her quivering heart back down her throat. Biting her lip, she gazed up at him, shaken by the oblivious expression he held.

"Thanks Hermione," Ron beamed, grin lighting up his features. Suddenly, it dropped, replaced by a bashful look, "Listen, I know you've already sent the owl back to McGonagall, but I was wondering…if you might…like to come with me instead." He ground out the last part so fast she could barely understand, "We could travel together, maybe. If you wanted to, I mean. It was just a thought, but I thought maybe we could go together…do that whole 'finding ourselves' bit as a team…"

Hermione cut him off with a huff, "Oh Ronald!"

Laughing at the puppy-dog-expression written across his features, she shook her head, "I can't go with you. I need to go to Hogwarts just the way you need to travel. As much as I would love to say yes, I have to go back."

He nodded, scuffing his foot at the carpet, "I figured you'd say that. I dunno, I guess I was hoping we could figure out where this thing was going…"

"Well, where is this thing going?" Hermione could barely breathe.

"I dunno…I thought…well…" he stammered.

Hermione tried not to kick something; so much for declarations of love. She decided to be rational; that always seemed a safe bet.

"How about this…" she sighed, "Why don't you go travel, I'll finish school, and we'll see where we are then? We don't seem to be on the right paths now…"

Ron was nodding enthusiastically, "If nothing changes, we'll see if we can make a relationship work. And if not…"

"We can just stay friends!" the two smiled at one another, but Hermione could feel her heart shattering.

"Well, then…" grinned Ron, "See you around, Hermione."

She nodded softly, and let herself into her apartment.

"See you around, Ron."


	3. Trials and Tribulations

_**Disclaimer: If I owned the characters would I be writing about them here? Nope. **_

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Draco Malfoy sat on a hard wooden chair in the stone hall, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe. The hem had frayed, and he tugged at the string absent-mindedly, watching it slowly unravel in his hand. He looked at the thread hanging from his sleeve, and then ripped it off angrily. If only he had his wand.

_Things to do: buy new robe…or fix this one; that might be more economical. _

Draco sighed gloomily to himself. _I hate being economical. _

Not that he had much choice in the matter. The ministry had seized the manor as evidence with no return in the near future. _As if I'd ever go back._ The investigators had also been so kind as to freeze all bank accounts until the investigation was complete, which meant for the first time in his life, Draco was penniless. Well, almost penniless. _Thank Merlin for foreign savings accounts. _

He didn't have the kind of means to support a new wardrobe, especially at the rate he was going. Draco forced himself to stop playing with his other sleeve. Oh, he wanted his wand back.

Glancing up at the guards, he found them all staring back. _Weird. _Shaken, he watched them cautiously, feeling all too much like a snake in a glass tank. _Irony is sick._ He studied each one. They all looked relatively young themselves, probably only a few years older than him. It occurred to him that he must be the first Death Eater that they had been given the chance to watch. _Nice show I'm giving them, sitting here tearing my clothes, acting twitchy as a cat._

He decided to give them a better act, but not too good…the big one in the corner kept touching his pocket, checking for his wand. Draco didn't like wand-happy strangers with power. They were usually in control, and Draco liked being the one in control.

Stretching, he placed his hands behind his head and slid down in his chair, forcing himself to exude confidence. He had seen some of the others who had been captured with him. They had cried, begged, or snarled like rabid animals. None of those were terribly honorable ways to go, with the risk of sounding like Potter. Draco may not have cared about _honor_, per say, but he had _pride_, and crying like a baby was not a way to help that along. Now that he realized he had an audience, he would have to step up his game.

He let his eyes drop to slits as he surveyed the room, and watched with amusement as the guards fingered their wands nervously. _Like I would attack now._ Honestly, these guards had no sense. Not that they had ever been given a chance to get some, but still.

The doors next to him sung open, and Draco dropped his arms. Acting like an arrogant…well…_Malfoy_ wasn't exactly going to help his case. He stood when he saw the guard inside motion him to follow. Following after, Draco couldn't help but turn one last time to smirk at the men behind him. He bit back his laugh as the burly one turned a shade whiter than natural. Draco turned back to the guard he was following. Fear was fun.

_Scratch that. Fear is not fun. Not fun at all._

Draco stared at the rows of people in front of him. Well, around him to be more precise. He sat in a single chair at the center of the courtroom, peering up at the judge, nearly lost in a sea of jury members, each blinking back at Draco unfeelingly. They all looked down at him like he was a bug, or something stuck on their shoe. It was like being in a room full of Potters. He didn't like his odds.

The prosecutor circled Draco's chair with an evil look on his face, as if he was just waiting for the others to leave so he could go in for the kill. Draco shifted slightly to eye his defender, who just looked tired. Everyone here knew what the outcome of this trial would be.

Feeling a rock lodge itself firmly into his throat, Draco tried desperately to focus on the man to the left of the judge, who was reading off a list of Draco's crimes.

"…torture of several innocents, including both muggles and wizards of both pure and mixed blood; conspiracy with members of the Dark Lord's following, murder…"

The man would have continued, but Draco snarled in protest.

"I never…" he began, only to be gripped roughly on the shoulder.

"Don't make this harder for yourself, boy," his defender hissed at him with so much loathing that Draco began to doubt which wizard was actually the prosecutor, "I apologize, judge. It appears my client has forgotten where he is."

"The court will disregard this interruption. Please continue, Humphrey," the judge stated blandly, glowering down at the worm below.

Draco seethed. He had _not murdered anyone_. He would _never_ murder anyone. In his anger, he missed the rest of formalities. His attention returned as the prosecutor began questioning.

"You certainly have a claim to your head, Mr. Malfoy," the man smirked, eying Draco all too gleefully, "But I understand that you have not quite agreed to the charges laid at your door?"

"Obviously," snapped Draco, "People don't generally agree to having murdered someone, _when they haven't_."

"No need to get aggressive, son. I'm only looking to have justice dealt. That's all any of us want," the prosecutor grinned, seeming to look forward to a bit more than justice coming his way.

"And I agree I've done everything else," growled Draco, "But _I haven't killed anyone_."

"So you do not admit to the murder of Destina Ruston?" the man froze, waiting.

"No."

"But you do admit to torturing her last November…say, the 28th?" the prosecutor watched his prey shrewdly.

"Yes...," Draco's mind whirled, his stomach turning to lead.

"So you admit to torturing the woman who was found two days later, dead in the woods?" the prosecutor was grinning like a child at yuletide.

"She's…dead?" Draco's voice caught before he could stop himself, and he felt his walls slipping.

The prosecutor continued, but Draco couldn't make out his words anymore. Somehow, he managed to answer the other questions, but his mind was gone.

She couldn't be dead.

They had told him that she was fine; she would be found eventually.

_She can't be dead._

The trial continued uneventfully, not that Draco heard a word. The jury left, then returned almost immediately. The debate had been brief, nearly one-sided. Everyone knew what action should be taken.

The judge spoke slowly, "Draco Lucius Malfoy, for the counts of torture, conspiracy against the ministry, connection to the Dark Lord and his purpose, and murder, this court hereby finds you guilty."

The rock in Draco's throat fell into the pit of his stomach, and something in him snapped. Inch by inch, the words of the judge turned his bleeding heart to stone.

_I am a murderer._

"For these counts, due to the fact that you were a minor when you first became a Death Eater, and as such should not be subjected to the dementors' kiss…"

Draco snorted harshly, feeling anger slipping through the cracks in his barriers, "Ah, yes. Death sentences is so much more _humane_."

The courtroom was still for half a second, and then a blood-curdling shriek raked the room.

"Draco Malfoy must not die! I have seen his mind! His crime is misjudged!" the voice echoed around the tall stone columns.

"Susanna?" the judge appeared to be in shock.

"I finally managed to see through the wall! You're good at occlumency, boy," she smiled warmly at him.

"You said that you could not see anything, Ms. Winters. What makes you so sure that he's not playing with you?" snapped a wizard to the judge's right.

"I know," she stated simply, cheeks flaring red, "and I will thank you to let me do my job myself, Raymond."

"He apologizes, Susanna. Please continue," the judge sighed, giving the man next to him an exasperated look.

"Thank you, judge," the woman rose from her seat, and hopped the low wall that separated her from the floor where Draco sat. She walked up to him, and looked him right in the eye, her bright gray-blue orbs scrutinizing his silver ones. She started talking very fast, as though she was reading a book aloud and had to share the words with everyone before they disappeared from the page. _Except she's reading my head._

"Let's see…you don't like this trial…well, who would, hmm? …You don't think you'll have an honest shot because everyone seems against you," at this the woman looked sharply up at the defender, brows furrowing.

Draco felt the digging grow stronger, but to his disgust, he didn't have enough energy to block the woman out completely.

"You love your parents very much, I see. A bit odd considering their backgrounds, but touching even so," she smiled slightly, raising your eyebrows, "No? Not so odd…I see…" Draco watched as she shifted through his head, reading his memories slowly, turning each one page by page.

This was not the first time someone had shifted through his thoughts, but Draco hated it even so. He focused on the woman, not wanting to feel the pain of reliving everything he would do anything to forget. It was easier to watch her, large silver earrings swaying slightly as her lips moved silently, pulling his thoughts from him.

When she finally released him, Draco closed his eyes, forcing the memories back down. A particularly painful one tugged on him, taunting him with the image of his mother. He could do nothing for her now, he urged himself silently, pushing the weeping woman away, locking the memory tightly away. Opening his eyes, he saw Susanna turn to the judge, tears fresh in her own eyes.

_Merlin, let her have missed that._

She walked slowly to the judge and whispered something in his ear. The judge nodded, then stood, and slowly made his way down to the floor, waving away the two attorneys, who were eying one another cautiously.

The judge studied Draco for a moment before he spoke, "It appears that new information must be discussed before a fair punishment can be given. Do you think you could answer some of my own questions, son?"

Draco eyed the judge warily, but nodded as the crowd buzzed in nervous anticipation.

"Very good. Now, how old were you when you joined the Death Eaters?"

Draco looked over to the woman, who was standing next to the judge, verifying Draco's answers, no doubt. She nodded encouragingly.

"Fifteen," he stated carefully, listening to his voice echo in the silent room.

A murmuring rose as the jury looked at one another. He could see the thought on everyone's faces. _That poor child. How could his parents do such a thing?_

If there was one thing Draco hated, it was pity.

"And why, son, at the age of fifteen did you feel it necessary to band with the darkest group of wizards known in at least this past millennium?"

"My father wanted me to," but that excuse seemed weak to his own ears. He would not blame his father for more than what he had done already, "It wasn't his fault, though. The dark lord had a task for me. He would have killed my mother if I said no."

"Completely understandable that you should wish to protect your mother," frowned the judge, "But, tell me, son, what task did Voldemort give you?"

Draco pushed back the shudder that threatened his chest, but his voice was clear, "He wanted me to kill Dumbledore."

"And did you?" the judge pushed on.

"No…" admitted Draco, a foolish wash of shame rolling through his heart, "Snape did…"

"Through previous design, as well this jury knows," stated the judge. "Did Voldemort want anything else from you?"

"Yes," said Draco, "When I was seventeen, I dropped out of school to serve him."

"And what did he have you do?" the judge looked remarkably calm for the situation at hand.

"All those things that you said before…torturing people, capturing spies…I was supposed to identify Potter if I found him," Draco felt his head slipping and he beat his walls back up as fast as they fell.

"And you did all the things you were told to? You tortured others…you identified Harry Potter when you saw him?" Draco nodded sharply, but stopped as the judge finished.

"I never did identify Potter or the others. I...couldn't." Draco admitted, and the shame came back. It wouldn't do to have people thinking he cared about _Potter_.

"I see," the judge's smile was slowly growing, "And during the war? Did you fight with your father's group? Did you curse those who fought against Voldemort?"

Memories bashed against his walls and he was slipping, fighting against the greatest shame of all.

He was a failure. A failure at being a Death Eater, a failure at being a hero.

The images swirled in his head; Crabbe's vacant eyes as he fell, losing the mask. Running through sparks, whirling spells into the smoke.

Falling...colors whirling around him. A bright face that he recognized. Wild hair flaming like the eyes, bright in a vicious face. Through the pain spotting his vision, sudden, desperate remorse. Not for his own fate, but for hers.

A dark figure, wand raised, aimed at her. Ending what was left of her childhood, her life.

Sparks.

The figure, fallen. The eyes on his, confused and intense. Her wand against his forehead, pressing a stunning spell onto his twisted frame, shoving him out of the way.

Staring at feet rushing by, and knowing, accepting. He was defeated.

The judge was waiting for an answer.

Draco faced him stonily, "No. I was stunned before I had the chance."

Susanna glanced at him harshly, but the judge gave her a knowing look. Turning to the jury, he said, "Well, I think we all know what truly happened here. This boy, through no fault of his own, was born to the wrong family at the wrong time."

Draco bristled. He may not wish to be his father's son, but that did _not_ mean that the Malfoy family was not worth being a part of.

The judge continued, "This boy was forced to join the Death Eaters at a young age, with the threat of death for his family, as well as himself, if he did not obey. He continued to serve the man he feared, and yet could still not manage to do those things that would have secured his favor at the cost of others' lives. I would like to remind the jury that many of our own fellow wizards have not acted as well in the face of danger. The fates have dealt Mr. Draco a bad hand. I do not know about the jury, but I do not feel that this young man deserves the same treatment from us that his relatives have given him."

The jury was buzzing with energy. A recess was called, and granted. Draco sat in his chair, the rock in his stomach turning into hundreds of little butterflies, bashing into the sides of his stomach. He couldn't see straight. Could he possibly…he could not even think the words.

The jury returned, and settled into their seats. The head juror passed a parchment to the judge who scanned it and looked up with a smile.

"I quite agree, Rhitlow," the younger man nodded firmly, then returned to his seat. The butterflies turned to bats. Draco was positive he was turning green.

"The jury has agreed that the new evidence placed on the case of Draco Malfoy proves him to be a pawn in the cruel game of more powerful men. In the light of all evidence, the jury is willing to free Mr. Draco Malfoy from all charges, under the conditions that he be placed under house arrest for a period of one year, after which a trial may be held to determine the length of time he should be supervised, following the aforementioned year," the judge was stopped by a woman who hurried over, whispering something in his ear and handing him a letter. He read the letter briefly, a satisfied gleam returning to his eyes as he looked up, "A new alternative has just been introduced, and I am nearly ready to see it through. Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, has extended an invitation to Mr. Malfoy, allowing him to return to the fall classes and finish his seventh year. Should you choose to accept this offer," he addressed Draco, "the year at school would be counted in your time of house arrest. I see no reason why we should use our dwindling resources when you can be watched in a safe and responsible environment, at no cost to the ministry. It's your choice, of course."

Draco blinked up at the judge, his ears ringing. This couldn't possibly be true; "I could go back to Hogwarts?"

"If you wished it," the judge smiled.

Draco couldn't breathe but his voice held steady, "Yes, sir. I would wish it."

The judge smiled, and motioned the case to a close. As he turned to speak to his paperwitch, Draco was lead from the room.

He felt like a very large weight had been lifted off his chest, but after a few turns, he asked the guard if they could stop at the nearest restroom. Some things couldn't wait, and throwing up was one of them.


	4. A Meeting of Fortune

_**Disclaimer: I've looked it up on every search engine. I still don't own the Harry Potter series.**_

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Despite Hermione's protest that there was no need to make a fuss over school shopping, Ginny's plan to work her way through Diagon Alley won the day. Normally, Hermione would have had more of a say, but when the redhead had a purseful of galleons to spend, nothing could stop her from an all-out shopping rampage. The idea was bolstered by the fact that the ministry needed the girls' rooms for other wizards who had just come out of Saint Mungo's, and soon the trip had stretched to a promising week of uncurtailed excitement.

The Friday before their journey on the Hogwarts' Express, Ginny and Hermione checked into the Leaky Cauldron, saw to their bags, and headed out into Diagon Alley.

It was hard to look upon the little village without pity. The streets were battered and walls were burned with ugly spells that no magical cleaner could seem to get rid of. Most storefronts were open, but between the bustling windows, empty shops echoed sorrow, their broken windows boarded up, doors smeared black with dust and mold.

Even so, lighted windows still managed to stream across the darkening streets, and Hermione noticed the hope reflected in their warm glow. Even in this town, wrought with destruction, people continued to live with dreams of future comfort.

Ginny didn't seem to notice the metaphor, however. She was determined to have a good time, even if that meant dodging shadows in the street. After a failed attempt at bullying Hermione into buying them a bottle of firewhisky ("Drinking underage? Ginny! How could you even think such a thing?"), she settled for dinner at the Dragon's Den and strawberry-rum ice cream cone at a tiny little shop halfway down a side-street Hermione was sure had never been there before.

The girls were so deep in conversation, they didn't notice how late it was until the clock struck one thirty, and Hermione thought to check her watch.

"Ginny! We're past curfew!" she shrieked, forgetting that she was actually of age, and they weren't past curfew at all. She tossed the last of her pistachio-cake ice cream in the trash and leapt up, pulling Ginny with her.

To Hermione's immense relief, no one saw them sneaking up the steps of the Leaky Cauldron. She whispered a quick goodnight to Ginny before scurrying into her room and collapsing atop her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she sighed. Gin was super to hang out with, but she did tend to live on the wild side. If only Harry and Ron were here to curb her ideas, although those two would probably just make things worse.

_Harry has an invisibility cloak, though._

If only they had wanted to go back to school with her. Hermione was resigned to the fact that the boys had other life goals, but that didn't mean that she was quite through feeling sorry for herself.

She wondered who else would go back with her to finish their years at Hogwarts. The Patil twins wouldn't be there, she heard they had left for France three weeks ago. Neville probably wouldn't come back, and as for Macmillan, forget it. Hermione doubted any of the Slytherins would come back, especially with all of the commotion going on in most of the pureblood families.

Hermione vaguely entertained the idea of pug-faced Parkinson being dragged back to Hogwarts, bound hand and foot and writhing in indignation. Realizing that Parkinson at school would mean Parkinson in classes, she relinquished the idea with a shudder.

Sighing, Hermione burrowed further into her blankets, thinking that Parkinson in classes was still better than Malfoy any day. At least there was no way the King of Snakes would ever go back to her beloved sanctuary.

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Draco twisted his wand between his fingers thoughtfully, relishing the feeling of smooth wood. He watched Simmons eye him nervously and let out a heavy breath.

_And people call me a coward. _

"Relax," Draco snapped at the stout man, "You should realize that I'm not going to hex you at this point."

The man muttered something incomprehensible but settled slightly. Draco gave up and turned back to his letters.

_If only they could write themselves._

It would make things so much easier. He had already sent out his school orders, and that rather embarrassing reply to the auror who had released his bank account. 'Thank-you's had never been his forte, but there were always exceptions to the rule. The ability to buy new robes was one of those exceptions.

Now the hard part. His parents.

_What do you say to the man who ruined your life the second he gave it to you?_

It was the last chance to say anything, too. The date for the dementor's kiss had been set, and his father would soon be as good as dead. The thought struck Draco with a kind of sorrow he couldn't explain, mainly because of the anger overwhelming him as well.

But then there was mother.

Draco blinked rapidly, worried his lip, and dipped his quill in fresh ink.

It was now or never.

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A sharp knocking on Hermione's door dashed away her dreams. She rolled and blinked groggily at her clock. Exactly 7:15. How very like Ginny; punctual and prompt seemed the girl's motto.

"Two minutes!" Hermione shouted through her door, hopping out of bed and scrambling to pull on something that was worthy of the public eye.

Five minutes and a few thumps later, Hermione arrived on the other side of her door, slightly more awake and rubbing her elbow grumpily.

"Ready yet?" Ginny griped, impatient for breakfast, "I'm starved!"

Grumbling about the eating habit of one family of Weasleys, Hermione trudged down the stairs behind her friend. Her mood considerably brightened at the smell of bacon, and she sighed when a fresh whiff of coffee danced by her nose.

Ginny turned, laughing at the change of expression on Hermione's face, "Better?"

"Definitely," sighed Hermione shooing Ginny towards the table. They settled onto the wooden bench and started in on breakfast.

The break was short lived; Hermione groaned and reached for her coffee when Ginny pulled out a long roll of parchment, "Come on, Gin. Do we have to plan our shopping out _now_?"

"Yes," insisted Ginny, "I have so much to get done, and less than a week to do it all. You have no idea how much time just shopping for robes is going to take, and then we have to get our new books, and I've always wanted a new broom…" Her eyes were going glassy.

"Dreaming a bit beyond our means, are we, She-Weasel?" a drawling voice taunted from behind _Transfiguration Today_.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Hermione, glowering at the list of items spread before her.

Wait…**Malfoy**? What in _Merlin's name_?

A devilish smirk appeared from behind the paper, as Draco folded it precisely and settled his gaze upon the bushy-haired girl across from him.

She blinked up, her gaze wide with disbelief, "**Malfoy**? What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Language, Granger," his eyes stayed firmly on her as he shook his head, reminding her of a cat watching its prey, "Where _have_ your manners gone?"

She felt her face heat up, which only escalated her annoyance. How dare he make her blush? "You still haven't answered my question," she insisted doggedly.

"Ah, yes. What _am_ I doing here?" he smirked even more, if that was possible, "It seems that despite the fact that most of the world," at this he nodded to her, "thinks that I deserve to be locked up in Azkaban for my horrible…_associations_, I apparently have friends in unexpected places."

"I wouldn't just call them associations," snapped Hermione.

"As right as you may be, Princess, the Ministry appears to have a different view," his words dripped poison.

She raised her eyebrows. It couldn't be possible that he had gotten away with everything he had done in the war…could it?

"I have, _apparently_, been a pawn in this whole 'war of older men', and as such I got off with a clean nose," his eyes danced at her expression, "My punishment: to complete my final year at Hogwarts."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. After all that…that…_snake_ had done to her and her friends, he was now going to walk away with a box on the ears and a half-hearted scolding? She was seeing red, but Malfoy wasn't done yet.

"What's wrong, Granger? Cat got your tongue?" he prodded, "So elated at the prospect of another year in my presence that you can't speak for the joy? I'm assuming you'll be going back; you'd never miss an opportunity like this…but wait. Where are Scarhead and Weaselby?" Malfoy grinned at her expression; he'd hit gold, and he knew it, "They didn't want to spend another precious year of life on _school_, did they? Wanted their degrees without all that _information_ attached, hmm? Figures…Weasel's never had much brains, and as for Potter, he's always preferred fame over real work. Bet they asked you to stay didn't they? Bet the Weasel begged extra nicely. _Please, Hermione, stay with me; give up your dreams of success. Come marry me in this sty and have all twelve of my children_," he mimicked, his smirk somehow harsher than usual.

Hermione was trying very hard not to cry. She would not show weakness. She would, however, leave as quickly as possible…but not without making sure that she had the last word.

"At least twelve Weasley children would be better than snakes," she spat, eyes shining, "Just imagine; hey kids, it's time for the story about how Gramps convinced Daddy to torture students! One of them was no bigger than you, Dennis!"

"I'm glad to know you feel that way about me, but really Granger I don't have any intention of marrying _you_. There's no reason for you to worry over what we tell the children…and on the off chance we do get stuck together for eternity, I'm sure there's some logical explanation for them, that _doesn't_ involve Lucius and his schemes," he smiled acidly at her.

The air around her practically sizzled, "Now. You. Just. Sound. Ridiculous."

He would have said something else, but she turned and huffed out of the room before he could open his mouth. Ginny picked up the paper to follow, but then stopped and turned.

In a far less enraged voice, she snapped, "As for dreaming beyond my means, Malfoy, I assure you that all of those dreams are within reason, _including_ the broom. Being a _war hero_ pays off," She smirked in a very un-weasel-like way, and sauntered after her distraught friend.

Draco raised his eyebrows and watched the two girls storm out. He turned to the wizard a few seats to his left.

"You can stop staring, Simmons," he sighed.

The short man quivered slightly, then shook off Draco's glower; "Ready to go?"

Draco nodded sharply, and swept out of the room, leaving the mousey man to scurry after him.

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Hermione tore up the stairs to her room, only stopping when she had successfully thrown herself on top of her bed. Shaking with surprisingly uncontrollable sobs, she cursed Malfoy again and again in her head. How did he manage to rile her up so much? She tried to calm her breathing, seeing spots.

"Hermione! Where are you?" called Ginny, turning into the room, "Oh, honey!"

Hermione allowed Ginny to help her sit up, still weeping openly, "How can he get to me so much, Gin?"

"Oh, hon. He just knows how to push your buttons. Don't worry too much, he's only pulling your pigtails," she rubbed Hermione's back soothingly.

"More like dipping them in ink. I wish he would just grow up!" she griped, but her breathing calmed.

"Don't hold your breath...but...but at least he'll have a chance to, right?" Ginny spoke quietly, wincing once she saw Hermione's expression.

"Ginevra Weasley, how could you say such a thing? Do you mean to tell me that you think Malfoy shouldn't have gone to Azkaban for what he did?" the shock of this revelation had stopped Hermione's tears, and she stared incredulously at her friend.

Ginny didn't blink, but she did shift uncomfortably, "Well…yes. I mean, no…I don't think he deserves to go to Azkaban. He's…he's not all bad, you know."

"No, I don't know!" snapped Hermione, "He's never been anything but a right prat to all of us!"

Ginny frowned, "Hermione, you know that's not completely true. What about the Quidditch World Cup?"

"What about it?"

"If Malfoy hadn't warned you about the Death Eaters hunting muggleborns, would you have known to get out?" suggested Ginny.

"Ginny! He called me a Mudblood and told me it would be entertaining to see me tortured like the others!" Hermione cried.

"Or it was his way of warning a classmate without going against his family," her friend stated with a shrug, tugging on the hem of her robe.

Hermione doubted that very much, but the look on Ginny's face halted the sharpness on her tongue, "Fine. But even if you were right, he's still a Death Eater. He still betrayed us all, and fought against us. He still helped to torture our friends."

Ginny looked distressed for some reason, "But Hermione. Didn't you ever wonder if the reason he did all of that was to protect those he loves? I know that I couldn't easily give up my family, even if I realized that they were wrong. And he only has his parents. And we...we don't know what happened at the battle. Maybe...maybe he didn't do what everyone keeps assuming he did." She wouldn't look Hermione in the eye.

The brunette studied her friend, "Is there something you're not telling me, Gin?"

Ginny refused to look up, but shook her head, "I don't know anything about Malfoy, if that's what you mean?"

Hermione scowled, "Then why do you seem to care so much about the likes of _him_?"

Another shrug, but this time her firey eyes met Hermione's, "It doesn't matter why _I_ care or don't care. It matters that _you_ don't. You're Hermione Granger, hero to the weak and misunderstood. You champion kindness. You are a friend to the friendless. It seems to me that you'd be the _first_ person to give Malfoy another shot."

Hermione sighed and scrubbed at her eyes, "You don't think I've given Malfoy a second chance? I've given him every benefit of the doubt I could. He doesn't deserve another one."

"Why not?" Ginny crossed her arms, "Maybe he's changed. We all have."

Hermione's laugh was empty, "Changed? Malfoy? I'm sorry, but there is no way. He's a bigoted pureblood who's been spoon-fed propaganda his entire life. I seriously doubt that Slytherin ferret has a nice bone left in his body, never mind him being able to change."

Ginny's eyes flashed, "Hermione Jean Granger, if I didn't know better, I would say you were a bigoted as the rest of them! Draco Malfoy may have been born into a pureblood family, but that does not mean that he is incapable of change! I'm surprised at you Hermione! I though you were better than all those silly prejudices."

Hermione blushed, "Gin…I didn't mean that…"

"I don't care," snapped Ginny, "It's not you excuses I want. Just promise me that you'll give Malfoy another chance, alright?"

Hermione scowled at her friend, "Seriously, Ginny? If the roles were reversed, do you really think that he would do the same for me?"

"No, he wouldn't," Ginny accepted, "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't, Hermione. You're better than him, remember? Start acting like it!"

Hermione stared at her friend, more shocked than she could express. Here was Ginny, her hot-tempered friend, telling her to calm down. This was unlike Ginny, to say the least, but the look in her eye said that she wasn't about to be easily swayed.

For all Ginny's denials, there was something going on here, and Hermione was determined to find out what.

Of course, that wasn't about to happen now. The redhead looked about ready to explode.

Hermione sighed, "Fine, Gin. I'll try for you. But don't expect this to change _his_ behavior!"

Ginny just smiled tightly.


	5. Unexpected Companions

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the movies, I don't own the books. I own only my plot line, so don't give me those looks. **_

* * *

Somehow, the week at Diagon Alley flew by without interruption, and soon enough it was Wednesday and once again time to board the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione and Ginny arrived at platform 9¾, early Wednesday morning. Ron had started traveling two weeks before, but Harry came to see them off. He was sporting a new goatee that Hermione thought was absolutely ridiculous looking, but Ginny clearly had a different opinion. After a few awkward goodbyes, Hermione decided to find a place for her trunk. It was clear her two friends wanted some alone time, if the looks they were sending each other was anything to go by.

Blinking through the smoke, she tried to make out anyone she knew. She managed to spot the shapes of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan in the midst of conversation, and her spirits rose slightly. Maybe there would be more Gryffindors than she had thought.

Fighting her way through the crowd of parents chattering to one another, Hermione made her way onto the train. She wrestled her trunk down the corridor, searching for an empty compartment. Hearing her name, she turned to see an incredibly happy Justin Finch-Fletchley towing a blond-haired girl behind him. The girl was gripping his sleeve, looking far more nervous than she needed to be.

"Hey, Hermione!" Justin grinned, "I thought you might be here! It's going to be great to be able to finish school, isn't it? See, Sally-Anne? I told you we'd find friendly faces! She was worried that we wouldn't find anyone we knew, but I told her we'd find lots of old friends. And here we are!" He grinned at Hermione, and patted Sally-Anne's back comfortingly. She didn't look very relieved, but she smiled for his benefit.

Hermione smiled at Justin, "It's good to see you! I'm just looking for a compartment…"

"Oh, well, you won't want to look back here then," he ginned toothily, "All the 8th years, that's what I've been calling us anyway, we've got our own compartments up in the front. You'd best hurry back there, it looks like we're going to start moving any minute."

Hermione thanked him, and started for the front, wishing that he had told her where to sit before she had traveled halfway down the train.

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Draco Malfoy scowled at the smog clinging to his clothes and hair. He batted at it in vain, trying to clear his vision slightly. When he had been younger, the smoke from the Hogwarts Express had been magical, but now he just thought it stifling. Brushing dismally at his no-longer-immaculate robes, he squinted as elegantly as he could through the grit.

Around him a swarm of faces and voices caught each other's attention, thickening the air even more with their calls and commotion. They all seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn't place them. It was too much like a battle he desperately wanted to forget. He pushed forward.

And was jumped from behind.

Elbowing his attacker off and whipping out his wand, he turned to face…

"Theo?" he blinked at his old comrade who was doubled over in pain.

"Was it really…necessary…umph…to elbow me in the gut?" grumbled the boy, grimacing as he straightened.

"That's what you get for attacking a Malfoy," grinned Draco, before pulling his friend into a very heartfelt (and manly) hug.

"It's been too long," smiled Theo, studying Draco's face, "How's the ministry been treating you?"

Draco shrugged, "Fair enough. Could have been loads worse. You?"

Nott frowned slightly, but said, "Same." He grinned then, surveying Draco's robe. "Why you sly old dragon! Nice touch," he commented, gesturing at the walking stick Draco carried.

Grinning, Draco handed it over for inspection, "I figured it was time I started dressing like I'm worth something."

"Didn't you always?" smirked Nott, fingering the dragon carved into the handle, "Family heirloom?"

Draco snorted, "As if I would keep a thing the old man had touched. Hard to start over with those memories. This is a Draco original, my friend."

"S'pose it'll be an heirloom now," chuckled Theo, "But I thought the ministry froze all of your accounts?"

Draco grinned, "They finally convinced themselves that the money's not illegal."

Theo raised his eyebrows, "And did anyone help them reach that conclusion?"

Draco's eyes went wide, "Who would be willing to help little old me? You're talking nonsense, Nott."

Theo just smiled, "Right. Come on, I saved us a compartment on the train."

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Hermione found Ginny halfway up her route to the front of the train. The girl's face was rather pink, and Hermione was about to ask what had happened (although she wasn't sure she even wanted to know) when the whistle sounded. Ginny made Hermione promise to talk later, and then scurried into a compartment to join her friends.

Hermione sighed and continued up the corridor, wondering what in heavens Ginny wanted to tell her. She made it to the compartment Justin had told her about, but when she peeked into it she found it full up. Someone probably would have made room for her, but Hermione was unsure that she wanted to ask. She knew a quidditch conversation when she heard it, and this crowd was clearly an enthusiastic bunch. Slipping away, Hermione scowled as she watched the last students slip into their compartments.

Where to go now?

Hermione turned to the compartment across from her, but when she looked in the windows she saw none other than the infamous Draco Malfoy stretched across one set of seats. Of course those were the options.

Dithering, Hermione debated squeezing into Justin's compartment. She could always sit on the floor if she needed.

As if on cue, Ginny's words snapped in her head. _Give Malfoy another chance. You're better than him, remember?_

The brunette scowled and sighed at herself. She was such a coward, actually debating sitting on the floor instead of biting the bullet and taking the available seat.

Talking to Malfoy might help her discover what Ginny was hiding in any case. Not that Hermione was nosy. It was just...an added perk.

Knowing that her curiosity had won over common sense, Hermione took a deep breath and entered the dragon's lair.

"Is there room for one more?" she asked, immediately praying for a 'no' when she saw that the only two members of the compartment were both Slytherins.

Draco made a noise that sounded like a negative, but the other boy cleared his throat rather loudly at him and turned to Hermione.

Flashing a set of altogether too pearly whites, he patted the seat next to him; "There's always room for another pretty girl. It's Hermione, right?" He winked at her and Draco made a sound like a choking cat. Theo ignored his friend.

"Yes…I'm not sure who you are, though," Hermione smiled stiffly at him and pulled her trunk into the compartment.

He stood, pulling himself into a mock bow, "Theodore Nott, at your service, Mademoiselle. Do you require assistance with your luggage?"

"Oh, no, I don't think I…" Hermione trailed off as Draco hauled himself off the seat and lifted her trunk himself.

He pushed it into the rack roughly and deliberately elbowed Theo in the ribs on his way back to his seat. Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned to Theo who just shrugged.

"Don't bother trying to understand why he does things. There's no point trying to reason with _the beast_," he informed her, settling back into his own seat.

She chuckled and sat next to him, eyeing Draco warily, "You two seem to know each other pretty well."

"Since before we were born," smirked Theo, "We had, what I like to call, an arranged friendship."

Hermione raised her eyebrow, smiling genuinely.

"It's like an arranged marriage, only with no financial gain," he glanced over to his scowling friend.

"I wouldn't say _no_ financial gain," bit back Malfoy tersely, "I seem to remember you owing me a bucket load of galleons after your latest endeavor."

"Ah, the Wadleys' potion. Would have been incredibly useful, you know, if Robert hadn't ended up in Saint Mungo's," he returned Hermione's smile, "One of my few vices, it appears, is a knack for bad investments."

"Few?" snorted Draco, raising his eyebrows incredulously.

Theo sighed at the grouchy dragon, "I apologize, Miss Granger, for the sour nature of our traveling companion. He appears to have forgotten his medication this morning." He smirked when Draco shot him a dirty look.

"It's nothing new," Hermione assured him, as Draco stretched out again, intent on ignoring them both.

"That is too bad. I had hoped he would behave better to the pretty ones," Nott smirked at her.

She blushed before she could stop herself, wondering if this charming young man would be quite so charming if he knew her 'background', "We've never been on good terms."

Theo nodded understandingly, "History?"

"You could say that," sighed Hermione, wondering whether she should just spit the truth out now or if waiting made more sense, "Malfoy's never exactly…approved of my parentage."

"None of our parents are good enough for Draco," Theo snickered, "Mainly because he basically hates everyone."

Draco snorted with his eyes closed.

"Well," Hermione frowned, "He likes my parents even less than most."

"And why should he?" Nott edged closer, "Do they have a longstanding rivalry with the Malfoys that will only be ended when one member of each family breaks the foolishness and falls for the other?"

Hermione snorted, "Merlin, no! I just don't have parents on the correct…'social standing', I guess you could say."

"Why?" Nott's mouth twisted into an animated pout.

"Well…" How could she phrase this?

"What Granger is trying to say is that her parents are muggles," sighed Draco, twisting his wand above his head as though studying each angle.

Hermione wondered how he even made 'muggle' sound like a dirty word. It made her want to slap him, and there was nothing cruel in that phrasing at all.

"So what?" Nott surprised Hermione from her thoughts.

"So…so that means that his family thinks I'm a dirty magic stealer who doesn't actually have any magic in me at all. He thinks I'm a cheater and a thief and Merlin knows what else."

Theo rolled his dark eyes, "Who cares about all that humjum anymore? All the idiots who cared about that bloody lunacy are in hell or waiting for the next opening. Besides," his smile turned feral, "If all the muggles looked like you, I doubt there'd be a pureblood left among us."

Hermione's cheeks burned under his gaze, her mind whirring. Did he really not care that she was muggleborn, or was he just a hopeless flirt?

Draco propped himself up on one elbow, glowering, "Stop being such a git, Nott."

"Stop being such a spoil sport, Grouch-o," Theo chuckled.

Draco clearly would have responded with something equally ridiculous, but just then the food cart rescued him from himself.

"Something sweet for the sweethearts?" the lady asked cheerily.

Hermione's blush darkened at her assumption and Draco scowled harder but Nott grinned and immediately began to place his order. Once everyone had received the sweets, Theo turned to Hermione, missing Draco's death stare. The little old woman tittered at Draco's expression, and left dreaming of young love.

Theo passed Hermione a chocolate frog, "A sweet for the sweet who privileges us with her presence."

Hermione looked down at the frog in her hand and Draco frowned at her, "Watch your back, Granger. Nott's a notorious flirt."

She smiled slightly at him, "I've noticed."

After a moment's deliberation, Hermione passed the chocolate frog to Malfoy. He raised his eyebrow at her, but she just shrugged.

"A start on that bucket of galleons he owes you," she stated.

Nott's laughter echoed throughout the compartment and into the corridor.


	6. Surprising Circumstances

_**Disclaimer: Can I pretend I own Harry Potter? Please? No? Fine.**_

_**So, yeah. I don't. **_

* * *

The train pulled into the Hogwarts grounds just as a fine drizzle began falling from the sky. Hermione stepped out of the train, searching for a familiar face. She couldn't spot Ginny, but a wide form stepped towards her in the receding light.

"Hagrid!" she cried weaving her way around students as they bustled about, calling for friends.

He swept her up in a tight hug, twirling her like she was three. She would have stayed longer, but the rain was falling harder now and she didn't want to get caught in the downpour that threatened overhead. Promising to come and visit him, Hermione raced off.

It appeared that the others had thought of scurrying to the carriages too. Most of them had already started towards the castle, and Hermione searched for an empty space to squeeze into.

Hearing her name, she turned to find Nott waving from one that was pulled off to the side.

"Hermione! Over here!" he opened to door for her, "We waited."

"Unfortunately," griped Malfoy, barely looking at her.

"Oh, don't bother with him, he's just hungry," smiled Theo. She settled in next to him and he caught a strand of her hair, studying the water droplets clinging to it, "Like an angel."

She raised her eyebrows at him and turned to Malfoy who was staring at them stonily. He blinked at her and then looked away, out the window. She did the same, and sighed as the castle came into view.

"You're fogging up the glass a bit there, Granger," Malfoy snickered, and she pulled away, realizing her nose had been pressed to the windowpane. It was just so good to be _home_.

The students clambered out of the carriages and up the lawn to the castle, dodging fat drops of rain. Hermione turned back to the carriages and stopped in shock, staring at the creatures that had brought them. She had never seen the beasts that drove the students to the castle, but now she could, in all their grotesque glory. She wished she had believed Harry when he first described the thestrals that pulled the carriages, knowing now exactly what they looked like.

Feeling a hand on her elbow, she half turned, not wanting the creatures out of her vision.

"Come on, Granger," Malfoy muttered quietly, "They won't hurt you, come on."

"I know," she whispered, but she didn't move to follow him.

He sighed, taking her wrist and gently pulling her behind him. When they reached the front hall, Hermione's shock wore off, and she quickly tugged away her arm. He sneered at her and did his best to drift away through the crowd.

She made to move into the Great Hall, but felt a hand on her shoulder.

Spinning, she scowled, "Look, Malfoy, I don't know what you're playing at…"

Nott smirked at her and quirked an eyebrow, "I was just going to tell you that McGonagall wants us in the classroom across the hall, but…"

She blushed and let him lead her to the classroom.

Hermione settled into a chair next to Nott and looked around at the others gathered in the classroom. She recognized the Sally-Anne she'd met on the train deep in conversation with a curly-haired head who must be Justin. A girl with coal-black hair that she recognized from Ravenclaw was laughing over something her friend had said. Hermione had just caught a glimpse of someone she thought might be Hannah when two boys accosted her.

"Hermione! Justin said he'd seen you on the train! I told you he was right," Seamus shook his head at Dean while pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

The dark boy just shrugged, "I didn't doubt him; I just said it's always good to verify a Hufflepuff's story before you take it as truth." He pulled Hermione out of Seamus' arms and pecked her on the cheek, "How are you, love?"

She grinned at the two of them, "All the better for seeing you again!"

They both looked about to speak when Theo cleared his throat and stood. The two boys' grins faltered, and they looked him up and down.

"Ah, Nott," Dean smiled in a determined sort of way and shook Theo's hand. Seamus forced a sort of smile-grimace and wiped his fingers on his robe after shaking hands.

Thankfully, the tense moment was broken by McGonagall sweeping into the room. She eyed the circle apprehensively, and waited until they had settled down. Once everyone was seated, she began.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, everyone. I'm so glad that you could come back to finish your schooling. Before you join your classmates in the Great Hall, there are a few items we have to discuss. First, as I am sure you wondered, your ages mean that the teachers at Hogwarts cannot follow the same principles when teaching you. You are legal adults, which means, for example, that you will be allowed to use magic outside of the classroom and may go down to Hogsmede without permission. These are your rights, but if you choose to misuse these privileges," she eyed the boys near Hermione, "you will be reprimanded accordingly. Remember that this school year is a privilege, not a right. Do not misuse your time here," McGonagall warned.

Hermione drank in her favorite teacher's words. It was so good to be back!

McGonagall continued, "Because you are so much older than the others, we felt it wise to split you up. A separate common room has been set aside for you, and you will not be allowed to participate in clubs or sports with the younger students, including quidditch," several groans were heard throughout the room, "However, there are several student teaching and coaching opportunities available for you that the other students have not been given. Next week a meeting will be held so that you can learn more about the opportunities available to you this year. Until then, enjoy the start of this school year, and welcome back!"

She smiled at them all and swept out of the room.

"Do you think we can go in to dinner now?" Seamus asked.

Everyone shifted, looking around at one another.

"Well, I'm hungry," determined Nott, "let's go find out,"

At this everyone stood and shuffled toward the Great Hall. It appeared Nott had been correct; the students were still buzzing as they settled into the long benches on either side of the each house's table. Hermione moved toward the Gryffindor table, but Theo pulled on her sleeve and pointed. In between the four long house tables and the teachers' raised table was another table. It was decorated with all four houses' colors and was shorter than the other tables, clearly for a smaller group.

Hermione turned to Nott who shrugged and sauntered toward the table. She followed, meeting Ginny's gaze and smiling.

"I'll sit here tomorrow," she muttered to her as she passed, and Ginny nodded.

Walking toward the front, Hermione heard the room hush into a buzzing whisper. She looked around and discovered that nearly every eye was on the 8th years making their way to the front. She supposed that this might be exciting for the younger students, but was surprised by how much awe the teenagers seemed to create. It didn't help that Malfoy was strolling along as though he owned the world, cloak billowing and staff-thing thumping in time with his step. Was it all really necessary?

She sighed and made her way to the table, settling between Theo and Dean. Theo winked and she smiled, until she saw the expression written on Seamus' face. It was going to be an interesting year.

The teachers filtered to their seats and then Professor Flitwick pattered in through the student doors, trailing a long stream of first years ready to be sorted. They all lined up, frightened and excited, every one of them deathly pale and silent. Professor McGonagall made a brief speech about sorting, and then the excitement began.

Hermione sighed happily as she watched the children get sorted into their houses. It had been such a long time since she had been sorted into Gryffindor House, and yet the whole ceremony felt like yesterday. Of all her Hogwarts memories, this was one of the greatest. It had been so exciting to wait in a long line of her future peers, unsure of what house she would be in but determined to like wherever she was sorted. And then that exciting moment when she was at last called to the hat, her cheeks pink and heart skittering nervously. She remembered the way her whole body had trembled as the hat muttered over her, and the way she had felt when Gryffindor was finally called. At once light as a feather and dangerously weighted with the task of proving herself, she had skipped down to join her housemates, each one smiling in welcome at someone who they knew nothing about, yet instantly supported. It was truly one of the most magical feelings she had experienced in her time at the wizarding school.

She smiled and watched each student quiver with anticipation as the hat was placed on their heads, then breathe a sigh of relief as they got their desires. It was so sweet to see each student welcomed to a family that would watch over them throughout their teenage years and well into their adult careers. Hermione watched, contentedly enjoying the spectacle, until the first Slytherin was sorted. At first nothing seemed amiss as Randalls, Martin hopped of his stool to join his fellow snakes, but then Hermione noticed the reactions of the other houses. She blinked in surprise at the other students, many of whom were hissing…and even booing the poor little boy.

Hermione stole a glance at Ginny, who was trying to shut up the people around her, and scowled. Eleven year olds did not deserve this kind of treatment, especially as they hadn't done anything to deserve it. She turned to Theodore, who was whooping and clapping as loudly as he could. As the next person settled the sorting hat upon her head, he turned and muttered something to Draco, who nodded, a scowl apparent on his face.

Biting her lip, Hermione forced her eyes to return to the sorting. The next few students were sorted with no worries, but then a sweet-faced girl with big blue eyes settled onto the stool to be sorted. Her brow was decidedly furrowed, and she squirmed nervously, as though knowing what was about to happen. As expected, the sorting hat screamed "Slytherin!" and the crowd erupted. Hermione turned to the Slytherin table and saw each member cheering loudly, but the table was fairly empty. Most Slytherins, it seemed, had not been allowed back to the school that had defeated Lord Voldemort.

Henrys, Amethyst, whose fate had just been decided, cowered on the stool, unsure of where to go as Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike booed her existence. Hermione turned to see Ginny hitting a neighbor's head with her napkin, and decided that something had to be done. Gaining resolve, she turned back to the girl and stood, clapping for all she was worth.

A motion on her left caused her to turn, only to find that both Theo and Draco had stood too, and were clapping as loudly as they could. Clearly, they had thought of the same idea she had. Turning back to the girl, Hermione caught Dean looking at her. She smiled and he slowly rose as well, nudging Seamus to do the same. Soon, the entire table was on its feet, cheering for a girl who looked like she was about to faint.

Every table but the Slytherins had gone oddly silent, shocked that their elder members had betrayed them in such a manner. The snakes, however, were clapping louder than they ever had, determined to show the other three houses what they were made of.

Little Amethyst was having a hard time adjusting to all the praise, however, and just stayed rooted to the spot. When it was clear that she had no intention of moving, Hermione scrambled quickly for a way to help, but Theo was ahead of her. He leapt over the table, nearly knocking over several goblets in the process, and hurried to her side. Gently taking the girl's arm, he led her over to the Slytherin's table. When she was safely seated, he proceeded to kiss the blushing girl's hand gallantly, causing her eyes to go wide and the girls around her to crowd in instantly, demanding gossip.

Professor McGonagall was less than pleased, but Theo just smiled pleasantly at her and returned to his seat, grinning like mad. He muttered something to Draco, who cuffed him very hard over the head, but who couldn't help but smile slightly. Hermione shook her head; there was no end to the audacity of that young man.

When the hubbub died down, the sorting continued in a far less negative way. The other houses had learned their lesson, and no more booing was heard as several more Slytherins joined their housemates without worry. Hermione watched happily as new members joined her own house, and even got the pleasure of two of the little girls smiling shyly at her. She responded enthusiastically, and blushed happily when they beamed, one growing quite red in the cheeks.

Nott grinned at this but showed no signs of getting more attention, until the very end. The last little boy, a Xanders, Salwin, had steadily been growing more nervous as the sorting continued. He was now a wreck of nerves, pallid face gleaming with a sheen of sweat and hands shaking visibly. When Flitwick at last called his name out, the boy scurried towards the hat so fast that he tripped on his robes, landing heavily on his side. Bright as a tomato, Xanders hurried up amid a few too many snickers and jammed the sorting hat atop his head. After a good two minutes of squirming, he finally got the salvation he was looking for, and the Slytherin name was called.

Despite the fact that he was visibly relieved, Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor kid. He was no longer shaking, but he eyed his new house as though they were going to beat him up, or at least disown him instantly. She watched his eyes widen when he focused on something, and then he slowly walked towards her.

Surprised, Hermione turned to watch Nott beckon the boy closer, before he muttered something in the kid's ear and ruffled his spiky hair. Grinning, the boy stepped back and nodded, turning to his new table. Just before he walked away, Hermione noticed Draco catch his attention and nod slightly. Clearly this recognition was too much for little Xanders, who went tomato red and walked toward his seat slowly, clearly awed.

The sorting done, Professor McGonagall spoke a few closing words, then clapped her hands. Food appeared in the center of the table, and the feast began.

Helping herself to some potatoes and gravy, Hermione glanced around the table at her old friends. There were less of them than she had initially thought; it appeared only Hannah had been missed in her assessment of the group. She glanced over to where the blonde was wedged between Dean and Seamus, who were in an avid discussion about the newest racing broom and its effect on the chances of several quidditch teams. Hannah just nodded along quietly, her eyes darting between the two as they burst with enthusiasm.

Across from Hannah and Seamus, Justin Finch-Fletchley and his friend Sally-Anne were arguing over something. Hermione couldn't tell what, but the poor blonde's lip was quivering so pitifully that Hermione decided to side with her, no matter what the argument was about. Dean was sitting across from a freckle-faced girl who was clearly far more interested in the quidditch conversation than her dark-haired friend; the brunette was frowning rather harshly at this point. Nott and Malfoy were muttering to one another at the end of the table, and didn't look like they wanted to be bothered.

Trying to decide which conversation to join, Hermione nearly missed the sigh across from her, until a hand jutted across the table.

"Hi, I'm Mandy Brocklehurst," she smiled a rather fake smile, clearly disgusted with her friend.

"Hermione Granger," the girls shook hands, eyeing each other cautiously.

Deciding she liked what she saw, Mandy smiled more genuinely than before, "I would introduce you to Lisa, but…"

Hermione smiled in response, "It's alright. I'm sure I'll meet her properly later."

Mandy scowled, "I just don't understand why she finds quidditch so fascinating."

Grinning Hermione sighed, "I have a friend like that, too. She's great most of the time, but put a quidditch pitch in front of her, and poof! There goes the conversation."

Mandy laughed, and the two girls smiled at one another. Maybe this year wouldn't be as lonely as they had first anticipated.

When the meal ended, Professor McGonagall tapped her glass smartly, and eyed her sleepy students.

"I know you are all stuffed from our feast, and you want to settle into your common rooms, but I have a few quick announcements first," several people groaned, and she looked around sharply, "Our caretaker, Mr. Filtch, has asked me to remind you that we have _rules_ at this school, and they are expected to be _followed_. I have asked the prefects to brush everyone up on what those rules are, but feel free to ask the staff if you have any questions. Remember: respect is _earned_, not given freely," She looked over at Theo sharply before continuing, "As you have realized, there is an unusual addition to our class this year. Our seventh year has been expanded to encompass some of the students from last year's graduating class. It is my hope that their guidance and support will be a benefit to you all."

She smiled out at the sleepy room, "But enough of my talk! Off to bed with you all, but as you go, one final thought. This year will be full of change, as our whole community rebuilds the standards that we all hold dear. Hogwarts will be looked on as a model for the rest of the wizarding community. It is my hope that we will show our friends that peace in our community is attainable. Remember that tolerance is not just for those who need to make amends; it is for everyone,"

She surveyed the room carefully, making sure each set of eyes met hers, before finally smiling, "And with that in mind, let us make this the best year Hogwarts has had yet!"

She waved for the prefects to lead the houses to their dormitories, and everyone cheered, although whether for the speech itself, or for being able to leave, Hermione couldn't be sure.


	7. First Night

_**Disclaimer: If you haven't concluded this already, I don't own Harry Potter, or his world.**_

* * *

It occurred to Hermione, halfway down the first set of stairs, that she would not be living in the Gryffindor dorms as usual. In the chaos of the first few hours, that little detail had settled to the back of her mind, but now it came up full force. She would not be with her friends in the Gryffindor common room that she loved so; instead she would be sharing a common room with those of her own year.

Those of her own year…one of whom, unhappily, was Draco Malfoy. Oh…fiddlesticks.

She stopped, the shock of this revelation halting her steps. Unfortunately, the person behind her didn't have time to stop as well, and rammed straight into her.

"Sorry, Hannah," sighed Hermione, helping the girl to her feet.

"It's fine," the girl smiled shyly and hurried over to Seamus, who immediately began lecturing her on the dangers of not watching where she was going.

"Nice going, Granger," smirked Malfoy, billowing by like some sort of obnoxious bat.

She scowled and muttered expletives under her breath until they had reached the common room.

The common room was actually an old wing of the castle, conveniently turned into living quarters for the new residents. It was two stories up from the Slytherin common rooms and jutted out over the lake. Going to it from the Great Hall was a challenge, and Hermione was puffing from trekking stairs by the time the small party reached their destination.

A new wall that had most definitely not been at the end of this hall before now stood solid and firm in place of a usual classroom. A large portrait of a soldier on his way into battle hung in the center of the stones, and Hermione grimaced at the accuracy of this symbol. She noticed that the soldier held a long staff instead of a gun, and multicolored sparks shot around him, mingling with the smoke in the foreground.

The teacher, whose face Hermione couldn't place, said, "Unity", and the portrait swung open to reveal a doorway. Everyone piled through, but before they could ask questions, the teacher had scowled at them all and closed the door in their faces.

"Well, then," sniffed Mandy, clearly miffed.

Hermione blinked at her surroundings, startled by the homey atmosphere of her new common room. The entire room was done over in warm browns, from the soft chocolate carpet to the light honey walls. It had clearly been an old classroom or perhaps a teacher's lounge, due to the large stone fireplace kittycornered into the walls on her right. Several comfortable looking chairs and lounges were pulled up to the fireplace, as well as scattered throughout the room. They ranged from plush cloth to comfortable leather, but all were a uniform black, which on closer inspection revealed to be a dark umber. This color was mirrored in the varying tables that were judiciously distributed throughout the room. Opposite the fireplace, a heavy wooden desk in a matching umber and gold inlay settled itself grandly, waiting for the workload it would house presently.

And then there were the books. Hundreds of them, in shelf after shelf, stacked floor to ceiling, leaving Hermione breathless. She scanned the titles reverently, sighing at the wide selection. Granted, not every shelf was full of books; many actually had gold or glass scales reminiscent of Dumbledore's office, but the effect was enough to take one's breath away. The edges of the shelves were painted gold, and Hermione had a suspicion that the edges of the books were painted the same color; at least the bindings were all similarly adorned with it.

It seemed that no one but Hermione was spellbound by the volumes, and everyone slowly filtered through the door on the opposite side of the room. She moved to cross towards the door, but her route veered as the bookshelves came closer, and Hermione found herself staring at the wall of books. Lovingly, she stroked the volumes, tilting her head out of habit to read their spines.

"So _this_ is what heaven is in your world," sneered a voice from behind her, "I must say, Granger, I did think that there would be a wider variety of colors. A little red, perhaps? But I suppose brown is fitting, considering the filth you associate with."

Hermione's fists balled at her sides as she turned to face the ferret masquerading as a man, "I doubt you could tell filth when it dripped off your nose, you sleazy little man."

His smirk, hard and venomous, taunted her, "I'll pretend you didn't just insult me, and chalk it up as ignorance. Being born from mud must make you immune to contamination."

"_Ignorance_? You're the one who's ignorant, you…backstabbing hypocrite!" she spluttered, but her anger was clear, "How can you live with yourself knowing that your actions have lead to the pain of so many people? How can you just walk away from it all, and go back to normal?Although I suppose it just shows how heartless you truly are, preying on the weak instead of facing your own sins," Hermione's words snapped at him, ringing truer than she knew.

Malfoy seemed to be trying to hold his temper. He strode towards her, eyes flashing with rage, but stopped a few steps away. The veins in his hand pulsed angrily as he gripped his staff ferociously. Hermione had never seen Malfoy quite so furious, and for a second it looked as though he would hex her, or at least hit her, but then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again the look in them startled her; the expression was almost dead.

"Don't pretend you know anything, Mudblood," his words were blank, empty, "Whatever I've done, it most definitely does not involve you."

Hermione blinked at him, rather afraid to breathe, but then he turned and stalked away from her. She decided that staying in the same room as an angry dragon was not the best idea, but he was closer to the door than she was. Dithering, Hermione watched Malfoy cautiously.

He was staring at the fire, clearly far away, but after a minute he looked up again. Noticing her in the same spot as before, he raised his eyebrows, but then he noticed where he was.

Stalking towards the fireplace, he waved his hand in a gesture that Hermione had no doubt he used to dismiss his house elves. She harrumphed, but turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving Malfoy to kick the furniture in peace.

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_The gall of that girl! _

Draco fumed, his brain whirling. How he had managed to keep his cool was beyond him. He had been this close…but that would have been a disaster.

_Thank god for self-control. _

He sank into a chair, running his hands through his hair. His staff thumped to the ground, unnoticed, and he blinked at it without seeing.

Why could she rile him up so easily? It wasn't as if the bookworm was anything special. She was just another filthy, uncooperative Gryffindor with a serious attitude problem. She was nothing special. She was nothing different.

_Except for her exceptional ability to make me lose it. _

Draco groaned in frustration, and stared at the fire in disgust. It was his fault for being emotionally invested; no one else was to blame. He was the one who had started the argument, and if it coiled back in his face, that was his own doing.

For some reason, it was just so amusing to watch her get frustrated. Her cheeks would get all pink, and her eyebrows would knit together, giving her a little crease in the center of her forehead. Her eyes would flash, and even though he knew he was in for it, Draco didn't care. It was worth it to see her pull her hair in frustration.

If Draco had admitted it to himself, he liked to see Hermione act the way she used to. Lately, she had this look in her eyes that he didn't understand…it was something between depression and resignation. Hermione wasn't the type to be resigned. She was the type to fight tooth and nail for what she wanted. She was the type to make his life miserable in the pursuit of justice.

But Draco wouldn't admit it to himself. He just couldn't.

_I'll have to be more careful next time. _

He couldn't have people thinking that he was weak, just because Granger caused him to go berserk on occasion. Draco would have to keep his temper in check.

With this in mind, he lifted his staff from the floor and stood, making his way toward the other rooms.

He walked through the arched doorway into a short hall. There were three doors: one on each side and another at the end, which appeared to be added as an afterthought and didn't seem to close properly. Draco moved towards the closest door, which was on his right, but then he heard the giggles within and thought better. Nursing the itching fingers that had managed to move faster than his brain, he made his way to the door on his left and peeked inside.

The boys' dormitory appeared to be series of alcoves with windows between the beds, overlooking the edge of the lake and the forest. Musing upon the usefulness of such a room (before its present function), Draco searched for his trunk along the row of beds. To his relief he found it closest to the door he had originally come through, and he settled on the edge, wrenching his trunk over to face him.

The other residents appeared to be arguing over a closet at the end of the room, but when Theo heard the footsteps, he turned to grin at Draco.

"Want me to save you some space?" he called, but Draco shook his head. He was not willing to share with anyone else, and his robes wouldn't fit anyway.

Pulling open the lid of his ornate leather trunk, he rifled through its contents absentmindedly. At the bottom, he found some new parchment and a quill, and after a bit of digging, even some ink. Stacking the finds next to him, he continued to search. Only when he had found a little black album and a stack of letters did he stop, but he didn't give either item a second glance, storing them in the side table next to his bed and locking the drawer tightly.

Draco's roommates were still arguing over the closet, although some of them had drifted off to inspect and claim sections of the adjoining bathroom. He was about to join them when he noticed a low door opposite his bed. Smirking like mad, he sauntered over to investigate. When Draco saw the opposite side of the door, he practically cackled with glee. The door revealed a closet…but not just a mere closet; it was a fantastic closet, not a big as his one at home, but still an upgrade from the usual. There would definitely be enough room to fit all of his clothes, and then some.

Being an honorary 8th year had its perks.

After seeing to it that all of his own clothes were safely tucked away, Draco decided he would be the bigger man…and let Theo know.

_The other losers can learn to think on their own time. _

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Hermione found her dorm easily and plunked onto her new bed in disgust. If she had taken the time to notice, she would have liked what she saw: a wonderful view of the lake through the windows, some elegant lilac walls, enough closet space for everyone, even floor length mirrors for each girl in the bathroom. Hermione, however, was in no mood for squealing over silver stitched comforters. She was angry, embarrassed, and even a little bit frightened, although the last part was something she would never admit out loud.

The other girls had crowded on one of the beds for get-to-know-each-other-and-gossip-like-old-wives time. They didn't seem to notice how riled up poor Hermione was, but their high-pitched giggling was enough to drive her from the room as soon as she sat down.

Grumbling, Hermione decided to explore the other rooms. She unpacked her clothes as quickly as she could (while still making sure all of her socks were folded) and snuck into the bathroom. It was nice, and would have been enormous if there hadn't been five teenage girls sharing it.

Scowling at her reflection in the mirror, Hermione tried to smooth her frazzled hair, but it merely stuck up like a cat on a carpet. She splashed water on her face, hoping to reduce the redness staining her cheekbones, and tried to rub away the line forming between her eyebrows. Nothing helped.

With a sigh, Hermione headed out to the hallway, knowing that nothing more could be done for her horrid appearance. Before she reached the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Mandy smiled, studying her features carefully.

Hermione did her best to smile back, "I'm fine, Mandy. Thank you, but honestly, I am."

Mandy did not look convinced, but she let Hermione go. She watched the brunette go, wondering what it was like inside the young woman's head.

Hermione walked out to the hall slightly more composed, but she froze when she saw a blonde head disappear through the door on the left. She stayed still for a full minute until she could be sure he would not come back out, and then scurried by to the end of the hall.

What had Malfoy still been doing in the common room? Wouldn't he have left already?

She quietly slipped through the other door, and found herself in a pretty little sunroom that jutted out over the lake. It had floor to ceiling glass windows and the view was spectacular. Even Hermione, as fearful of heights as she was, could appreciate a view like this. She settled into a white whicker loveseat and watched the stars travel across the sky until their twinkling was her only company and the clock struck twelve.

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Draco jerked awake with a shout, sweat pouring from every centimeter of his body. He fumbled with his wand, pulling it from under his pillow and quickly lighting up his cave of sheets. Thanking Merlin for a good silencing charm, he snuck his hand through the drapes in his bed and fumbled for his watch.

2:33. Just like every night. He shook his head angrily, trying to force the dream out of his mind.

It wouldn't go, though. The screams were as vivid now as when he had been there, the tears as tangible. He could practically feel her hands clutching his forearms, taste the salt falling on his face as she clung to him. Her pitiful eyes begged him to save her, and his heart screamed as she was dragged from his protective embrace.

_Damn_ them for taking her.

_Damn_ his father for doing this to her.

Damn _her_ for making this his fault.

Damn _himself_ for not saving her when he could.

_If only I could. _

It was worse here, with sleeping forms making shadows in the room longer and the likelihood of turning on lamps nonexistent. He couldn't get up, couldn't pace, couldn't breathe.

_I need to get out of here. _

Barely had the thought appeared, than he was up and sneaking from the room. He padded down the hall, staff held firmly in his left hand, wand clutched in the right. The common room lit up with warm firelight the second he entered, and he strode to the fireplace, tossing his walking stick on a nearby couch.

His momentum didn't stop as he paced nervously, slamming his palm against his head, pounding at the thoughts that just wouldn't leave. The screams intensified, and he dropped to his knees, tearing at his hair in frustration. In half a breath, he was up again, pacing even more furiously. The carpet barely sprang up in time for his next step, and he wrung his hands in frustration.

A torturous hour passed, but slowly the weeping woman faded from his mind. Heart racing anxiously, Draco settled into a chair close to the flames. Staring blankly into the fire, he begged his mind to find another topic, but like a cannon each new sin fired back on his soul. He winced as the memories surfaced again, and ran his hands through his hair once more.

It was going to be a long night.


	8. Regretting Reminders

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns lots of wonderful things. Like, for example, the Harry Potter series.**_

* * *

Hermione Granger woke up on Thursday morning feeling far calmer than the night before. She padded over to her organized closet and pulled out a crisp uniform, folding it over her arm and tiptoeing to the bathroom.

She was not usually this much of an early bird, but the first day of classes was something worth waking up for. Her heart was fluttering with anticipation already, and she washed her hair extra carefully.

One quick drying spell later, and Hermione was squeaky clean and standing dressed in front of a long mirror. She studied her reflection briefly, wishing it didn't take so much time to do something with her bushy mane. After two minutes of useless griping about a reflection that just wouldn't change, she wrestled her hair into a ponytail and stepped back to the bedroom.

A few of the girls were up and grumbling, so Hermione pulled open her trunk without the worry of waking anyone. She rifled through her belongings to find the new schoolbooks and stacked them neatly in a leather schoolbag that Ginny had requested she buy. It was a bit too fancy for her tastes, seeing as it would be destroyed by Christmas with all the heavy books she carried, but there was nothing to be done.

The other girls piled into the bathroom, but Hermione stayed seated on the bed. She most definitely did not want to spend time alone in the common room any time soon. One experience with the Great Git of Slytherin was enough for now.

Thankfully, Hannah pulled out of the bathroom sooner than the others, and she and Hermione headed to the common room.

Dean and Seamus were already there, deep in a heated discussion about…what else…quidditch. How they could already be at it this early in the morning, Hermione didn't know.

On seeing Hannah, Seamus instantly called her over. Dean looked at the two of them talking for a minute, rolled his eyes, and smiled at Hermione.

"I swear, he thinks of her as a pet or something," Dean jerked a hand at Seamus, who appeared to be trying to straighten Hannah's robes while talking animatedly about some sort flesh-eating plant.

Hermione snickered slightly, but her smile was genuine, "It's kind of sweet."

Dean just rolled his eyes at her, "It's _not_ sweet. It's just plain aggravating."

Hermione would have spoken again, but the room was interrupted by raucous laughter from the hall. It appeared that Mandy and Lisa had met up with Theo, and his comment was wildly hilarious. They spilled through the door unceremoniously, followed soon after by Justin and Sally-Anne. The room immediately filled with chatter, and soon enough everyone was preparing to make their way down to breakfast.

They all jabbered their way out the door, each talking to a different friend and calling back to one another as they walked. Dean trailed away to walk with Justin, and Hermione found herself bringing up the rear. She smiled at them all, taking in the bustle. It was so wonderful to be part of the family again, even if this family of classmates took a different shape than usual.

The nervousness in her stomach was slowly building, and Hermione soon found herself glad she had no one to walk with. Her nerves made even thinking a challenge, and she knew that talking would have been impossible.

A soft sigh on her right made Hermione turn, and to her immense distaste she found that she was no longer walking alone. A well-groomed ferret was strolling next to her, deep in thought. He looked cleaner than usual, his pale face scrubbed and his soft hair gelled firmly in place. Hermione wondered if he had taken extra time for some reason, or if he always looked like this first thing in the morning.

Glancing down at his tailored robes, Hermione felt a twinge that could only be labeled as jealousy. His robes clung to him like an extra skin, hanging elegantly off his muscular form. It just wasn't fair that such an obnoxious man got to be the one with the wealth…Hermione sighed inwardly as her eyes traveled to the gold watch peeking from his sleeve. Its price, she guessed, would probably have made her faint with horror.

Cursing herself finding any part of the nasty man anything less than vile, she was about to turn away when she heard a chuckle.

"Like what you find, Granger?" his taunting smirk didn't seem to reach his eyes.

She looked away blushing, not at his words, but at the immediate _yes_ that ran through her head. He was a horrid, slimy snake, she reminded herself. Nothing less, nothing more. Just a horrid, slimy snake.

He seemed to be waiting for an answer, and she turned back when his eyes continued to bore into her head. The smirk was gone, replaced with a look that bordered on anger with an intense urgency that she didn't understand.

"Don't flatter yourself," she sniped, but the ferocity that usually accompanied her words wasn't there.

He turned forwards, attempting to smirk again but failing in a few seconds. She blinked up at him, unsure of what to do. He looked so…miserable.

For the first time in her life, Hermione actually felt sorry for Draco Malfoy. She didn't know why, but she did. And Hermione didn't like it one bit.

Feeling incredibly awkward, she focused on the floor, "Listen, Malfoy. I'm sorry for the things I said last night. It was uncalled for, and you're right. It _is_ none of my business."

He pulled to a stop, halting her with a hand, "Don't worry about it, Granger."

"I just want you to know that I didn't mean to say it. And…I'm sorry," she choked out, feeling like a fool when her voice squeaked on the words.

"Granger," he snapped, "Don't."

She didn't understand, and she ducked her head, feeling tears well in her eyes. She was just trying to apologize for what she'd said. Why wouldn't he let her?

He sighed at her, and she blinked up at him, forcing away her tears. His look was so strange: a mix of annoyance and pity that she understood even less than his actions.

They stood there for a moment, studying one another. Then Malfoy sighed again, and she saw something flash through his eyes so fast she couldn't read it.

He reached toward her, like he was going to cup her face in his hand, and Hermione was acutely aware of how close they had gotten. His breath fanned against her face, eyes searching hers. The look in them was so puzzling that she didn't bother to pull away, frozen where she stood. He seemed to be fighting himself over something, and she held her breath as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

Slowly, almost gently, he lifted his hand to her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw with his index finger, so lightly that its path burned at the touch. He dropped his hand, his eyes still holding hers, but then decided better and dropped his gaze. Turning swiftly, he walked away towards the others, leaving Hermione to pull in her first jagged breath. She blinked after him, dazed, before shaking herself thoroughly and scampering after the others.

What had_ that_ been about?

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Draco's heart beat wildly in his chest, and he fought to keep his hands from running themselves through his newly gelled hair.

_What the bloody hell am I doing?_

He stabbed a tomato furiously, trying to calm his freshly agitated mind. His finger tingled where it had touched her cheek, and he gripped his fork harder.

Surreptitiously, he glanced up the table towards Granger. She had managed to wedge herself between Dean and Seamus, and was following their conversation with an almost aggressive interest. He smirked a little, watching her nod far too enthusiastically at something Seamus said.

Sensing eyes on her, she looked up and met his gaze. He looked away quickly, feeling foolish, but not before he saw a rather satisfying pink appear on her cheekbones.

It had been her blush that had caused all the trouble in the first place. He had been upset before, still mulling over the dreams of last night, when he had noticed her watching him. Irritated, he had made that ridiculous comment about liking what she saw, and to his surprise she had blushed and looked away.

She had refused to look at him, and for some reason he had wanted her to. She had been so distressed the night before, and it was as if he needed to see where they stood. But she had refused to look at him, refused to let him know whether he was back on solid footing or if she was still upset. It was infuriating that she was doing this to him, forcing him to wait for _her_ forgiveness when _she_ had been the one to hurt _him_. By the time she turned, he was furious again.

But she had been so sad that the fury was gone in an instant. It left him empty, and he realized bitterly just how much this one girl's opinion mattered to him. As mortifying as _that_ observation was, it left him with the realization that she would never think well of him. She hated him. She had every reason to, and he knew that if he were in her shoes he would probably hate her even more. He had done so much, hurt her so much, that he knew there was no way she could ever forgive him. He had failed her, just as he had failed everyone. That thought hurt him more than words could express.

And then she had rubbed it in his face by trying to apologize. The one time she had managed to ruffle his feathers, she had felt remorse. She had wanted to make it up to him. She had regretted hurting _him_. The unfairness of that would have been enough, but then he had heard the pity in her voice, and he just wanted her to stop.

Unthinkingly, without meaning to, he had hurt her again.

But then she had looked up at him with her big, sad eyes blinking back unshed tears, and he had lost it. She had looked so confused and fragile that he had wanted to wrap her in his arms then and there and protect her from the world. Somehow one of them had stepped forward, and they had been so _close_. And she had kept staring up at him with that fragile expression, he had just wanted to tell her that nothing was going to hurt her.

That blush had appeared again, and it had been too great a temptation. He couldn't help himself, didn't want to help himself. He had reached out and touched her, followed the stain of pink down her cheek until his hand dropped to his side.

It had been too much and he had wanted to say something, but then he had dropped his gaze instead. In an instant, memories threw themselves at him, and he remembered who he was. And who she was. And why she hated him.

Draco had walked away in disgust, a harsh pink staining his own cheeks, his heart threatening to tear itself to bits.

There was no possible way that she could ever forgive him, and yet he was finding it increasingly difficult to hate her.

They had been enemies all their lives, and yet now it was her good opinion that he felt himself wishing for. He supposed that in his deteriorating world, she had become this sort of constant. She would always stay Granger. _Her_ actions he could count on. In her own stuffy way, she had provided a tie to the childhood he had lost.

Draco had no need or desire to care. She was worthless in all connotations of the word. Her opinion was as useless as her intelligence was infuriating. Granger was, and always would be, a nuisance.

And yet this girl who was so inconsequential now…mattered?

He shook his head in disgust and battered another tomato into pulp.

Halfway through destroying his breakfast, Draco realized something. In the hallway, he had been so caught up with thoughts of protecting Hermione that he had forgotten the key detail.

The person most likely to do her harm had been the one aching to keep her safe.

He closed his eyes and fought to keep what little he had eaten safely in his stomach, pushing the traitorous thought away.


	9. Rest for the Weary

_**Disclaimer: If we're all going to die eventually, who is to say who really owns a story?**_

_**I can tell you one thing. **_

_**It's not me.**_

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of Hermione's day went far more smoothly than the beginning, and she was able to force herself to concentrate. She went through Arithmancy and Charms in a fog, but by the time Herbology came around she was back to her studious self. To her utmost relief, Malfoy let her be, and by the end of the day she was back to being as sunny as usual.

As promised, Hermione sat with the Gryffindors at dinner, although she and Ginny decided that it would be better to sit together at lunch when everyone usually jumped tables. They chattered about their classes, some of which they shared, the people they had met, and the new teachers that they had seen. Ginny seemed to be avoiding the subject she had alluded to on the train, but Hermione didn't press. It was Ginny's business, after all.

Hogwarts was slowly rebuilding itself into the palace it had been, but the work was still in progress. Several of Hermione's classes had been held in the Great Hall or in usually empty classrooms, and she discovered from Ginny that they had yet to find a Potions teacher. Even the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was more of a long-term substitute, and Hermione found that Flitwick was actually teaching the two oldest grades in his preparatory hour. Apparently, all the teachers had their hours filled with extra classes that they helped to teach; even Professor McGonagall continued as a Transfiguration instructor, despite her job as headmistress.

Despite the clearly strained situation, it was good to be back. The classes were familiar and the people were friendly. Aside from her encounter with a certain Slytherin male, the day went by without a hitch. Hermione headed up to her common room at the end of the day, tired and more than a little punch-happy.

The feeling intensified when she reached the comfortable room. Many of her dorm mates were already there, chattering amiably in the cozy atmosphere. Most of the boys had gathered to play a heated game of wizarding poker and were making quite a bit of noise about it. Every time one of their faces would reveal anything, the chips they had out would start exploding and smoking, leaving the other players to fall in fits of raucous laughter.

The only other girls in the room were Mandy and Sally-Anne, who appeared to have made friends and were chatting amiably. Hermione almost went over until she saw the bottle of nail polish between them and decided against it. The color in the bottle was a rather obnoxious shade of chartreuse that she would prefer never made it to her fingers or toes.

It appeared that Malfoy had stolen the desk, Hermione noted with distaste. He had his books stacked neatly on top of it, along with a few small desk ornaments she was sure were part of his personal collection, due to their dragon-y nature. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and turned away from the man, who was clearly writing a letter and had his eagle owl settled patiently on the edge of the desk.

Theodore called her over, "Come and play, love!"

She rolled her eyes at the innuendo, but moved to join him anyway.

He grinned at her as she settled onto the couch closest to where he sat on the floor, and then deliberately set his face into a neutral mask.

"I mustn't let them know how badly I'm winning," he hissed in her ear, and she laughed at the expressions of distaste on his comrade's faces. They were clearly miffed by the lack of exploding occurring after the last comment, but Nott played his turn stoically, and they soon forgot to hate him as half of his chips started crackling and emitting blue smoke.

He sighed in defeat and settled against Hermione's legs to watch the others take their turns, narrowing his eyes in sport. She rolled her eyes at him and patted his head like a dog before pulling out one of her new books and flipping through it absentmindedly. It was nice to have someone leaning against her, even if it didn't mean anything. She found herself missing Ron with an intensity that astonished her, and she pulled her attention back to the game in hopes that it would distract her.

Malfoy had finished his letter and dispatched his owl. He settled into a high-backed leather chair across the fire from her, and Hermione looked up when she felt his eyes burning a hole somewhere near her knee. His glare wasn't focused on her, though. Both steel eyes were firing daggers at Nott, who seemed to find the whole situation very amusing.

The boy at her feet rolled his head back to look at her and winked before focusing back on his surly friend. She looked over at Malfoy too and found that his glares had intensified. Confused, she watched him until he looked over to her. For some reason, his anger was instantly replaced with a look close to sheepishness, and his ears got slightly pinker than normal.

Hermione shrugged off his gaze and focused again on her book. Boys were so very strange.

None of the others seemed to have noticed their interaction, and the game continued as before. To the others' great chagrin, Nott won that game as well as two others. Dean was able to scrape the last round, but that was probably due to the fact that Theo had grown bored and was stretching his face in different ways, trying to figure out how the chips were triggered.

By the time the fourth game finished, the others had filtered through the door, and soon everyone was gathered around the fire. They all cheered when Dean gathered his chips in victory, and Hannah even went so far as to give him a quick hug. It appeared that the group was adapting to one another, and Hermione smiled at the knowledge that they would all soon be friends.

Well…most of them anyway.

The next day followed in a similar way, although Hermione did find Madam Hooch's lesson plan a bit more trying than the others. To the poor girl's horror, she found that they would start flying again in another two weeks, and there was no way out of it this year. Apparently, Professor McGonagall had decided that everyone needed to learn how to fly, no matter their athletic tendencies. Hermione, who hadn't flown much since first year, now found herself stuck with a miserable broom again.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been all the eighth years in one class. Now to Hermione's utter humiliation, she would be forced to take to the skies with a bunch of quidditch fanatics. Not to mention Malfoy, who was a bloody seeker!

Speaking of Malfoy, he had been strangely quiet today. She snuck a glance at him over the textbook currently in her lap. He was in that same high-backed chair with a book settled on his knees. Hermione frowned; he obviously wasn't reading, as his eyes stayed motionless and the book was clearly upside-down. She wondered what was wrong. Or what he was up to. Or both.

She glanced around to the others in the room, but no one else appeared interested in Malfoy and his troubles. In fact, the only other people in the common room were a disgruntled Justin who was ferociously scribbling herbology notes as Sally-Anne patiently explained what they actually meant. Everyone seemed to be elsewhere, and Hermione had heard mumblings of a pick-up quidditch game after classes from snips of Seamus and Dean's conversation. It appeared that more people were involved than she could have foreseen.

That did beg the question, what was Malfoy doing here? He loved quidditch, didn't he? Why wasn't he at the pitch with the rest of them?

Hermione's curiosity got the best of her and she closed her book with a sigh, settling it onto the table next to her and stretching. She cautiously glanced over at Malfoy. He was in the same position he had been before, except now his eyes had drifted to his hands, gripping the textbook so hard that veins showed on his pale skin.

So something really was wrong. She debated her options silently, biting her lip in worry. Should she say something, or just leave him alone?

It was probably best to let him be; she didn't want a repeat of their first night here. And yet…her memories shifted to yesterday, his hand on her cheek, his eyes whirling with a pain that she couldn't imagine. Or, rather, she could imagine, but on someone _else_'s face…

It was surprising to say the least. Heart-aching to watch. And intriguing. Ginny's words popped into her head once again.

Giving in to curiosity, Hermione stood and made her way over to him, ready to run at a moment's notice. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice her until she was in front of him. Nervously, she sat on a footstool, curling her feet under her as he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

His eyes snapped up to hers, cold and unyielding, "What do you want, Granger?"

Fighting the urge to pick up and run, she squared her shoulders, "I just thought you might want to know that books are a bit more informative when they're right side up".

Malfoy snapped the cover closed, his ears tingeing red, but made no comment.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, but when he made no move to speak, she sighed, "Look, Malfoy. Are you alright? You seem a bit…erm…out of sorts."

"I'm fine," he snapped, but his eyes didn't look so convinced.

"Are you sure?" she ventured, "Because if you need to…"

"_I'm fine_," he snarled tossing his book to the ground and making to leave.

Hermione would have responded if the rest of her classmates had not come bursting through the door, jabbering raucously.

Nott was the first one in and he cried, "Well, what do we have here? Another lover's spat? Really, Hermione, you could do so much better than him. And by that, I mean me!" He dodged Lisa Turpin's smack on the shoulder and came up to Hermione, lazily draping his arm around her and smirking at her expression.

She sighed at him, "_Really_, Nott…"

"Would you just mind your own bloody business for once?" interrupted Malfoy, glaring daggers at his friend. Before Nott could comment, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with him?" Nott frowned.

Hermione sighed, "I have no idea."

"Oh…' Nott smiled lecherously, realization dawning in his eyes, "so that really was a lover's spat, then?"

Hermione blushed, "No! Of course not! We are in no way…no!"

"Well, good then. I was beginning to worry about your position as Keeper of My Heart," Nott smirked.

She just rolled her eyes and ducked out from under her arm, "Lay off, Nott."

He shook his head at her, "Hey! My name is Theo, Miss. Granger, and don't you forget it." He ruffled her hair and then turned back his teammates to relive their glorious victory.

Hermione sighed and patted her hair. Theo was nice and all, and (even she could admit) plenty attractive, but sometimes he was just too much trouble for his own good.

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It was difficult to get to sleep that night, but when Draco finally managed to, he wished that he hadn't. The dreams ascended every time that he closed his eyes, yanking him back into memories he kept so carefully boxed up by day. There were more than usual tonight, flooding his sleep with memories.

Eyes. So many terrified eyes. Trapped and tortured while he watched, unable to help and unwilling to try.

He watched silently as they screamed for him. Eyes begging for rescue. Eyes begging for peace.

Blue eyes that pierced him with their emptiness. Cold oceans stilled with their own receding tides of hope.

Silver eyes that melted in sorrow, clinging to his heart like the hands that grasped feebly at his arms.

Brown eyes that he had almost forgotten. Chocolate that boiled in pain and anger, hurling hatred his way just as she hurled her screams into the cold night.

He could not take it. He woke in a sweat, voice hoarse from the cries that his former self refused to utter. But just as quickly as he awoke, he fell again into sleep, and new dreams accosted him.

He was almost relieved when the blue and brown eyes faded, leaving nothing but silver to torment him. This dream was more vivid, more real. His body shook with the effort to hide the grief as those eyes accosted him, accused him, begged him.

It should be he that felt these emotions, he that begged and blamed. Instead he stood, cold and unmoving. Her hands clawed harder into his shoulders, her sobs grew louder and yet he watched impassively. He stood as she screamed, struggled, was torn away. Just as her hands left him, he reached out suddenly, terrified all at once.

It was too late. She had been pulled far from him, and so he stood silently again as new hands clenched around his shoulders, far less forgiving hands.

He would wake soon. He could feel himself slowly pulling into consciousness, hear his own screams as he relived the memory.

Why wasn't he awake? He thrashed against the sheets.

Then new eyes were upon him. Hard eyes. Gray eyes. They looked into his and the disappointment in them crushed his last resolve.

Draco woke up then, weeping instead of screaming.

He had never felt more alone.

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Hermione stared at the canopy above her, wishing that day would just come already. It had already been several hours, and her brain hurt from the mental struggle it was giving itself.

First came the whole trouble with Malfoy. What exactly was his deal anyways? He acted so sure of himself in one moment, and in the next he was nothing but apparent worry. She had seen firsthand his mood swings; one minute he was swearing in rage and the next he was sitting dejectedly alone. She had felt the power of his anger, and yet…she had also felt the power of his kindness, both in words and in body. She blushed at the remembrance of his hand on her cheek and wondered at herself. How could someone she hated so much leave her feeling…so…cared for? It made no logical sense, but Hermione couldn't help but think of the look in his eyes that day. They had been go gentle, open in a way she had never seen, as if he were sharing all of his weaknesses and inviting her to do the same. She had felt so protected in that one moment, as though, for the first time in a long while, she could actual lean on someone else.

But the next time they had spoken, he had been so harsh, so angry. What was his problem? Couldn't he just be the kind Draco she had seen, instead of the moody dragon waiting for a fight? Stupid ferret boy, always ruining a perfectly good moment.

And what the bloody hell was with his wardrobe this year? His staff and flapping robes reminded her of his father, and yet there was something so regal about his style that was nothing like the slimy man who carried half his genetics. Hermione wished Malfoy would just go back to the usual school robe and lack of staff. It would be so much easier to argue with him when he wasn't dressed like he owned the school. She already had enough of a disadvantage with her lack of stature and his obnoxiously unexpected growth spurt (he was no Ron, but still…), and now she had to compete with his polished look? Although, honestly, Hermione could probably afford some nice new robes, but what was the point? She just couldn't understand the purpose for such expense, even if it would boost her self-confidence.

Although at this point, she had to admit, she could use the boost.

And then there was the whole deal with Nott…or, Theo, rather. He was awfully nice, and it did Hermione good to be flirted with (it was about time, right?), but she couldn't help but feel like she was betraying…someone. Perhaps it was Ron, but the tug that her heart felt at the thought of him was different than this. She missed him, yes, but the aching was more for a time gone by than a time she wanted to go back to. Hermione wondered exactly how mush she actually missed _him_. What kind of love was that? How could she be thinking these things? Theo was just an obnoxious flirt anyways, she was in no harm of falling for him. He was, however, a great deal of fun, and Hermione hadn't felt valued in quite a while. Even if he was just a harmless flirtation, Theo did a fantastic job of helping her escape reality for a few minutes.

It did irk her that whenever she thought of Theo, Draco's black anger at their flirting was quick to pop into her head. It was probably because she hated to see anyone angry with her. Hermione loathed dislike.

These thoughts were better than the ones that usually paraded around her head at night, and she welcomed them, even as they picked at her decisions. Unfortunately, it was too soon before the thoughts she had been avoiding fluttered in, and she sat up briskly.

It was time to clear her head.

Moving out of bed as silently as she could, Hermione tiptoed to the bathroom and splashed water lightly on her face. Feeling far more awake than she had in a while, she tiptoed out into the sun room.

The stars were bright tonight, lighting up the world with their gentle twinkle. Hermione settled into a loveseat and watched the moon's thin crescent slide slowly across the sky. She had never been interested by astronomy, but the gentle light of the stars always made her feel more at home than a house ever could. She sighed, and settled closer into the soft cushions around her.

Waking suddenly, stiff with cold, Hermione rubbed her eyes in confusion. As memories of her night unfolded, she groaned and glanced down at her watch. The small hands seemed to shift in the weak light, but her eyes finally adjusted and read the hands.

It was almost 3:00.

Groaning, she pulled herself off of the flattened cushions and padded into the warmth of the hall. Now too awake to go back to bed, she slipped into the common room to warm up by the fire.

A startling sight met Hermione as her eyes adjusted to the light of the fire. In front of her, slumped on the floor, was a very much awake Draco Malfoy, cowered low in the light of the flames. His wand had been thrown on a sedan and his staff had been unceremoniously dropped on the floor a few feet away. His shoulders shook, and her eyes widened at the sound of weeping.

Not exactly sure how to react, Hermione edged closer, thumping her feet on the floor to alert him of her presence. When he did not respond, she crept closer, watching his chest heave from the force of his sobs.

This had never been what she expected from Draco Malfoy. Sure, she had thought that something was irking him, but now this?

Hermione knelt gently beside the boy, sighing to herself, "You are _so not_ 'fine'"

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Draco stiffened at the voice next to him and whirled towards it, ready to grapple with whoever dared intrude upon him.

He was met by a pair of very sympathetic chocolate eyes.

Relaxing slightly, he felt his ears tinge at the sight of Granger kneeling next to him. _Of course she's the one who would find me like this._

She was talking at him now, probably asking what was wrong or some nonsense, but all he heard were the echoes of her screams in his head, images of her writhing in pain as his Aunt slashed into her throat. He held his head in his hands, trying to push the thoughts away.

Her words were louder now, pulling him back into reality. What was she saying? Was that his name?

"_Draco_!" her words finally cut through his head. His name, his first name, on her lips as she shook him, trying to get him to hear.

He pulled his head up, focusing on her eyes, those eyes that promised peace if he could only convince her to forgive him, help him to forget. He clung to the thought staring at her with a desperation he never would have dared before.

He was making her uncomfortable, staring at her with tears still dripping down his face, skin red and blotchy. _She must think I'm completely insane._

And then she did the unthinkable.

She _hugged_ him.

She wrapped her soft arms around his torso and held her to him, gently pulling him into a sitting position, leaning him back to rest against the couch cushions. She yanked a pillow down and propped it behind his back, letting him rest against the welcoming softness.

Hermione pulled away then, pulling a handkerchief from her pajama pocket and handing it to him, curling her other hand firmly against his own.

She was cold. She had been in the sunroom for certain; it was the only place that didn't have heating. He dabbed at his still streaming eyes, focusing on her cold hands, her pink cheeks, her soft eyes. Usually, they were so full of hatred, but now the emotions that flickered through them were nothing but caring.

Slowly his tears stopped, his breathing returned to normal. They sat there, holding hands until he took a shaky breath and looked away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispered.

Before, her question had been absurd. He had not wanted to talk to her, of all people, about his problems, and he had cut her off in anger. Now, though…

"My father's being given the Dementor's Kiss next month," it was a partial truth, accurate in its facts but wholly un-responsible for his mood.

Her hand stiffened in his but she turned it into a squeeze before it could be detected, "Oh, Malfoy."

Her voice was so sympathetic that he went on. "My mother wants me to go…say goodbye," Draco laughed bitterly.

Hermione's free hand started rubbing his back gently and he breathed in shakily before continuing.

"What has my father ever done to deserve a goodbye? What has he ever done to deserve our love?"

"And yet," Hermione whispered, "He's your father."

"And yet," Draco choked out, "he is."

The tears were back now, silent and weary. Hermione rubbed his back gently, humming lightly, some tune he didn't know. He relaxed against her, letting his head drop onto her shoulder, soaking in her warmth.

She was so quiet, he almost missed it, "What else?"

It was too much, the weight of carrying this for so long, "Mother."

"Sentenced?"

"Trial. Six months."

His tears dropped onto her shoulder, and she held him closer, letting him sink into the soft protection of her arms.

He had relaxed now, and just as she moved to shift him back onto the cushions, he mumbled in her hair, "They said I killed someone."

She stiffened, and the sobs wracked his body silently as he struggled to speak, "They said…I…tortured her…tortured her to…death. But I didn't! I didn't."

He muttered against her, feeling her rub his back again in slow circles, her breath on his ear, whispering, "Of course you didn't...you wouldn't, now would you?"

The tears subsided, and he pulled back slightly, blinking up into her warm eyes.

"I…I think you ought to let go now, Hermione," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked, brows furrowed as she watched more tears fall down his cheeks.

"Because if you don't now, I might not let go at all," he whispered into her shoulder, wrapping his arms securely around her and shuddering with the weight of new sobs.

She didn't let go. She didn't pull away. She just held him until his sobs ceased, and his breathing slowed.

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They had stayed like that, holding each other, until Hermione had felt his head slide lower on her arm. He had actually fallen asleep against her. She made to move away, but he shifted and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Those had not been there yesterday, and she wondered if he had been covering them with a glamour charm. When was the last time he'd actually had a good night's sleep?

Carefully, Hermione shifted Draco enough to remove her wand before gently levitating him to the couch. He barely stirred, but when she moved to slip her hand from his, he just pulled her wrist until she had fallen next to him. The next thing she knew, his arms had wrapped around her waist, and her head was cradled against his chest. She felt herself blushing, and would have retreated, if not for the sigh he released followed by a quiet '_thank you'_ before he nestled her even closer.

Draco Malfoy had just said _thank you_, albeit a half-asleep '_thank you'_. Draco Malfoy had just, was just, _hugging_ her. Draco Malfoy had told her that he wouldn't let her go (_what was that supposed to mean?_).

Hermione was very much confused, but she was also very much tired. The fire was warm, Draco was warm, and she found herself floating in a little bubble of contentment.

Surely it couldn't hurt to worry about all this some other day?

She hadn't had a good night's sleep in _so_ long…

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Draco woke up to the smell of cinnamon. He blinked and opened his eyes to a face full of hair. It was then that he realized that his arms were wrapped around a soft something…no…someone. A someone who was melted against his chest, breathing gently.

The memories of last night came rushing back to him and he couldn't hold back to groan of aggravation.

This wasn't just any soft someone. This was Granger.

_Damn._

Well…now what? He was probably supposed to panic at this point, push her off him, start some argument about minding her own business, but Draco just stayed where he was.

She looked so happy, curled up against him. It was really very comforting to have someone so close. When was the last time someone had wanted to hold him, just hold him? Pansy didn't really count; she always had an ulterior motive.

_Mother must have, at some point._ Or had she? These feelings weren't new, he was almost positive. Perhaps when he was little?

And what was the point in getting up, anyways? It wasn't too late; no one would be awake at this point, surely.

It was just so bloody comfortable here, nestled into the cushions, listening to Granger breathe softly. He felt safe, warm, cared for.

She had stayed with him, listened to him. She hadn't run away or laughed at his pain. She had just held him, comforted him.

And then she had managed to give him the best night of sleep he had experienced in months, years maybe. Draco didn't bother lying to himself. It was all her doing, the sleep, the peace.

_Maybe I can convince her to sleep with me again. I mean sleep next to her…not with her. I mean…hell what do I mean? _

For the first time in a long while, Draco relaxed against the cushions, feeling nothing but peace. For the first time in months, he smiled.

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"Well, well…what do we have here?" Hermione jerked awake to the sound of sniggers.

She blinked sleepily, pulling her head away from the warm something she was resting on, and stifled the gasp that jumped to her throat.

Draco Malfoy smiled down at her, his arms curled protectively around her frame.

She was on top of _Draco Malfoy_.

Who was _smiling_.

At _her_.

In the _morning_.

While _wrapped around her_.

What the _bloody hell_?

That wasn't the worst of it. For all of the mortification of waking up to a smiling Draco Malfoy (even if she did remember what had happened last night, she was still incredibly embarrassed by the whole thing), nothing compared to the look the person behind the couch was giving her. Well, people behind the couch, to be more exact.

"Is there something you youngsters would like to inform the class?" Theo continued, smirking wickedly. Dean and Seamus just stood there, jaws hanging open. Mandy smiled at her, raising her eyebrows.

"Not really," rumbled a deep voice from under her, and she groaned, unthinkingly burying her head back into his chest and squeezing her eyes tight. This was a dream, really it was. She was going to wake up now, to her own soft, completely male-free bed.

"This doesn't look like nothing to me," Theo's voice cut through her thoughts.

The others seemed to have found their voices.

"Hermione, what in Merlin's name are you doing?" cried Seamus.

Dean's voice was strained, "You might at least warn us in advance!"

Draco stroked her hair gently, carefully shifting her off of his chest while keeping an arm firmly around her waist. She wasn't sure if this was bad or good, and she felt her stomach knot in confusion.

"Why don't you all let them explain themselves," chided Mandy gently, "Hermione? Draco?"

Hermione couldn't bear the eyes on her. She leapt to her feet, cheeks flaming, "I…I have to go shower. If you'll excuse me."

And then she bolted.


	10. Confrontation

_**Disclaimer Time: I checked behind the couch, and there were no copyright papers. It turns out that I don't own and of J.K. Rowling's work! **_

* * *

She was avoiding him. No; it was more than that. She was actually hiding from him.

Really, Draco found this whole thing a little absurd. Yes, it was embarrassing to be found wrapped around someone, but it wasn't like they were worst enemies or anything. In fact, when compared to most people in his life, Draco found that he got on with Hermione rather well. When they weren't arguing, of course.

And who cared if people gossiped? Draco couldn't think of a more harmless rumor. It wasn't as if anyone actually _believed_ that they had feelings for each other. Aside from Theo, who was probably clinically insane, and Hannah, who was a hopeless romantic, everyone appeared to have accepted the feeble excuse Granger had made about falling asleep during a late night study session. They were the two best students, after all.

But he wasn't exactly sure how she had managed to get people to believe that they had just happened to fall asleep in _each other's arms_.

Maybe she was just denying the whole thing.

He would have asked her himself, except; ah, yes. She was _avoiding_ him. Like the plague, actually. It was a bit astonishing that anyone could make themselves that scarce, but she had managed to stay almost invisible. Except for classes and meals, half of which she was skipping (the meals, not the classes: she was Hermione Granger after all), she seemed to have vanished entirely. During those times when they were forced together, she would deliberately avoid him, ignoring every look that went her way and practically running out the door when class was dismissed.

The sleep was terrible. He woke in his usual fits, but now they seemed even more unbearable. Draco was having Granger withdrawals.

She had snuck in to see him the first night, peeking her head around the common room door, as he sat staring blankly at the fire. He had seen her shadow on the wall and turned, but she had disappeared before he could catch her eye.

It was just so unfair that she held the power of a good night's rest in her hands, and she wouldn't even look at him. He stopped bothering to cover the dark circles under his eyes, hoping that she would take pity on him, but she only hid more, now barely coming down for dinner, always sitting with the Weaselette.

It had been four days and Draco had reached his breaking point.

Today, McGonagall was going to hold a meeting for the eighth years, and Draco was going to plan a meeting of his own. Granger could only run for so long. He wanted some answers, and if cornering her was the only way to get them, he would do it.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Hermione curled up on her favorite window-seat in the library, clutching her bag to her chest. Outside, the boys were playing a pick-up quidditch game. They whizzed by the window, whooping in the late summer air. She had deliberately avoided the common room after supper, assuming that Draco would be there. Now it seemed she hadn't needed to worry.

Just thinking about him made her face flame. How could she have let herself into such a compromising position?

Everywhere Hermione went, eyes followed. It didn't help that the eighth years had class together. No matter where she was, Malfoy somehow managed to pop up. It was infuriating.

Hermione was used to scandal, and although it was aggravating to be followed by whispers, she knew they would die down soon enough.

She was more embarrassed by her own reaction.

Why had she run?

Of all the ridiculous, cowardly things to have done, Hermione had chosen to scurry for the hills. It was rather hard to swallow the fact that Hermione Granger, war hero and idol of millions, had bolted at the first moment of embarrassment. She had run from a boy. She had run from _Draco Malfoy._

The realization that she was still running from him colored her cheeks again.

_Ginny had been a useful distraction, until she discovered what exactly Hermione was doing. Then she had dragged the brunette up to the Gryffindor dormitory for a good old-fashioned discussion. Hermione had barely managed to settle onto Ginny's bed when the redhead had plopped next to her and pierced her with a determined stare._

_"Talk," she had snapped, and Hermione had groaned in frustration, burying her face in the comforter._

_"There's nothing to say, Gin."_

_"Hermione Granger! There are rumors streaming in everywhere. The **least**_ _imaginative ones involved you and Malfoy caught spooning in your common room!" Ginny patted her friend's head as muffled oaths were emitted from the comforter, "I'll spare you the more **colorful** tales. In any case, you've clearly a reason to be embarrassed, but hiding from him? That's a bit childish, isn't it?"_

_Hermione scowled and raised her head enough to be heard, "well what would you have me do, Gin? I don't know what to say to him!"_

_"Then let him talk! Or better yet, tell him the truth."_

_Hermione sat up, scowling, "what truth? Should I tell him that I wish I'd never seen him at all? Should I tell him I wish I'd left him there? Do you know what he was doing before I came into the common room, Ginny? He was **crying**! How am I supposed to look someone in the face and tell him that I wish I hadn't comforted him? What sort of person would that make me?"_

_Ginny sat quietly until her friend had finished, "you do wish you hadn't comforted him, though?"_

_"Of course I wish I hadn't! He's Draco Malfoy! I've spent most of my childhood wishing he **would** cry! He's certainly made me cry enough for the both of us, but then it actually happened, he was actually crying, and I wasn't glad at all! How is it that the one thing I've wanted, the one justice I've been craving, could leave me so empty? I saw him the way I'd always wanted to see him, and I just felt **sorry** for him! Here I am, finally able to watch him crumple the way I've always wanted him to, and I pick him back up again! I **helped** him, Ginny!" she was up and pacing now, eyes shining angrily._

_"That makes you a good person, Hermione. That makes you a Gryffindor," said Ginny gently._

_"I don't want to be a good person to him! He doesn't deserve that!" snarled Hermione, stalking to the window._

_"Everyone deserves that Hermione, even Malfoy," the redhead insisted._

_"He's a Death Eater, Ginny!" Hermione snapped._

_Her friend's voice was tight, "he's also **human**."_

_"And a murderer!" Hermione's eyes welled in angry tears, but she refused to let them fall, "he told me himself. He's a killer."_

_Ginny's eyes flashed and she nearly shouted, "he's not **just** a killer, Hermione! Everyone seems to think he's heartless, but he's kinder than you all know!"_

_Hermione went silent, and her friend's words echoed through the room._

_Ginny rubbed her eyes in frustration and sat heavily on the bed, "I just wish you would let him be human Hermione. Malfoy might not have made good decisions, but they weren't all as bad as you seem to think. He has clearly shown himself to be capable of growth because the ministry let him go without much punishment. They think he can have better behavior, and I am inclined to believe them. I don't think he's any less of a prat, but I also don't think he's any more than a man. He's just human."_

_Quietly settling alongside her friend, Hermione patted the girl's arm, "I'm sorry, Ginny. You're right. But Gin, be straight with me here. What happened between you two?"_

_Ginny tucked her feet under her, and stared at the floor, "I'm not really supposed to say."_

_"Since when have you followed the rules, Miss. Weasley?"_

_Ginny's eyes flashed slightly, "Since I'm staying quiet for other people's safety!"_

_"Oh, Gin, I'm sorry! I didn't know," Hermione frowned._

_The redhead shook her head and faced her friend, "Of course you didn't Hermione. You couldn't have. Just believe me when I say that Draco has been more heroic than you realize."_

_"I don't know if I can believe that, to be honest," Hermione ducked her head._

_Ginny sighed resolutely, "If you promise not to tell…"_

_Her friend nodded hopefully._

_Gin bit her lip and then her eyes met the brunette's, "he saved Harry's life, Hermione, and…he saved mine too."_

It was proving impossible to sort out her thoughts, and Hermione gathered her books in irritation. McGonagall was holding the meeting for eighth years, and it was time to face her fears. There was no hiding from Malfoy now, not that she had much of a choice either way. Ginny had officially kicked her from the Gryffindor table and ordered her to make peace. If she didn't want to starve (or spend every meal in kitchens), Hermione would have to talk to him.

Her fellow eighth years appeared to have come to a similar consensus. Despite having entered later than most of the group, Hermione was somehow jostled into the middle of them, directly next to the person she had hoped to avoid.

"Hermione," he said cordially, eyes taking in her expression warily.

"Malfoy," her tone was gentle, if a bit stiff.

For a moment, he looked downcast, but then he smirked, "Back to Malfoy now, are we? I liked _Draco_ so much better."

Next to him, Nott snorted loudly, his face turning red in an effort to hold back his laughter. Hermione colored, and Draco smiled to himself.

McGonagall saved Hermione from a retort then, sweeping into the room and beginning at once.

"Hello again, everyone. I trust that your first days here have been pleasant," she smiled briskly at the room.

"Oh, they have been _very_ pleasant," snickered Nott, "for some more than others."

McGonagall frowned as Mandy elbowed him heavily in the ribs, but continued, "I'm sure that the rest of the school year will prove to be as exciting as these first few days have been."

Hermione certainly hoped not.

"As promised, we have come here today to discuss the privileges of your seniority. You are Hogwarts' first and only eighth years, and you will be the first to experience the new learning opportunities Hogwarts has to offer. In order to prepare students for the jobs that they desire, we will be establishing programs that will provide hands-on experience to students and educate them in the fields that they are most fit for. This will count as your first year of apprenticeship, so you will not be behind your previous classmates as they start on the next step of adulthood. For some of you, this will be the stepping-stone for the careers you desire. For others, this will be a window into the world you could live in when you graduate. The choice is yours to make."

Everyone had stopped shuffling now, and Hermione could taste the excitement on the air, although it may have just been her own.

McGonagall continued, "As this is our first year of the program, you will be the people who shape what it will become. You will each get to decide which field most interests you, and we will work with you to create the program that you and future generations will use. Some of you will stay at Hogwarts for your training, while others will be assigned to workers outside of the grounds. The ministry has agreed to partner us in this endeavor. We are all excited for the new witches and wizards that will create and shape this program."

Everyone was thrilled at the prospect, but their headmistress was far from finished, "additionally, student teaching opportunities will now be available to those who wish to do so. We will have openings available for sign up at the end of the week. Please talk to your teachers if there is a class that interests you, even if it is not on the list. I am sure that something can be arranged. Are there any questions?"

"What about going to Hogsmede?" Nott asked without bothering to raise his hand.

"You are all legal adults, which means that you will be allowed to leave the grounds whenever you please. However, please understand that the gates close at sunset and open at sunrise. There are no exceptions," McGonagall eyed them sternly.

"And we can help coach flying?" piped up Seamus.

"That will be an option for student teaching. Feel free to get more information from Madame Hooch and sign up at the end of the week. Any further questions?" McGonagall was clearly finished, and when no hands lifted she nodded shortly, "Very well. Have a wonderful semester, eighth years. I am sure that you will do very well."

The headmistress dismissed them with a wave before hurrying away herself. Hermione moved to follow her classmates, but a hand caught her elbow and she was forced to a stop.

"Listen, Granger," he began, once the room had cleared.

"No, Malfoy, you listen. I don't know what you're on about, but this has got to stop. Every time I turn around, here you are, accosting me again!" she yanked her elbow from his grasp and crossed her arms with a huff.

He scowled at her, "well, I wouldn't feel the need to come up to you if you would just listen for a bloody second!"

Hermione sighed and then met his gaze resolutely, "you're right Malfoy. I'll listen now, if you'd like."

The dragon ran a hand through his hair, "Yes, I would like that actually. About the other night…"

"I'm really sorry about that. I shouldn't have let that happen."

"Granger," he smirked at her, "let me finish, please."

The light tone surprised her and she blushed, "sorry."

"I just wanted to thank you. It's been a long time since anyone listened, is all. And it was…nice. To have someone to talk to, I mean," he rubbed his neck and scowled as the words jumped on top of each other.

Hermione smiled tightly, "it's alright, Malfoy. I'm glad I could be of service."

"Well, it was bloody kind of you to be of service, or, you know…" his words were failing him, clearly; they stood in silence for a moment and then he muttered, "just…thanks is all."

Hermione brushed aside his thank you and smiled, "it's really no trouble, but…if you don't mind my asking, what are you going to do? About your father, I mean?"

He stiffened slightly, and she wished the words back in an instant, "what do you mean?"

"I mean, are you going to go see him? Before…you know…" Hermione looked away.

His voice was sharp, "I don't see how it makes a difference."

Hermione winced at his words, her own father's image swirling in her head. All at once, she wished she had kept a picture, an old shirt, anything. Draco was a fool.

"Of course it makes a difference!" she snapped, "he's your father!"

Malfoy's eyes were steel, "you know nothing about my family, Granger. Don't pretend to understand us."

"Even if I didn't know your family, I would know that you should see your father. This is your last chance, Draco. Don't foul it up because of your own miserable self-preservation," she didn't care if it was a rabbit hole, she just dove onward, "you may not have been strong in the past, but you can be there for him now. Show him how courageous his son truly is! Give him that, at least."

His laugh was loud and incredulous, "you think I've been a coward have you? Of course you do! I haven't lived up to your pristine little hero act and so that makes me a coward. I did everything for that man! I gave up every inch of happiness I knew in order to preserve his. When he faltered, I held him up. When he was in danger, I gave him my life. My acts may not be heroic, but I am not a coward. I am his loyal son. My entire life has been based on his preservation. I have done nothing that has not been for him. But what do you know of loyalty? While I quit school to protect my kin, where were you? Off keeping those you loved safe? No, you were off on a fool's errand, trying to rescue the bloody _world_."

Hermione felt the tears prick at her eyes but she bit back, "and I _did_, didn't I? I saved _everyone_ while you just enabled your evil family."

"Evil, eh?" his voice was quiet, but she had never seen him more furious, "well, at least I know what you think of me, just one more murderer in the pack of devils. And you, the little angel, come to save the day. Well, guess what, Mudblood? While you were off saving the world, we were watching our families die. While you were off preaching your goodness and light, we were watching our relationships topple around us and our homes crumble inwards. But you don't care about your family, do you? It doesn't matter if there's one less filthy mudblood in the world, there'll always be another to take its place. Well good for you, Granger. You've gotten your bloody wish. The world is back to its bloody goodness and light. Who cares whose parents are gone in the process?"

Hermione just stared at him, wide-eyed. For a moment, it looked as though he had not meant it, but then his eyes grew cold.

"Go save someone else, Granger," he spat, turning away just as the first tear slid down her cheek.

She watched the door slam behind him and stared at the spot where he had been.

For a moment, Hermione was silent, and then she whispered, "if only I could save them."

With that the sob broke forth from her chest, and she slumped to the ground in grief.


End file.
